When A Rose Withers
by soulsearcher
Summary: I have FINALLY written a serious LOTR fic. After the fall of Gandalf, Legolas percieves that it is his fault. Will his friends be able to save him, before his guilt drives him to dark extent? COMPLETED! LAST CHAPTER POSTED!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Ah, yes, I am back. And no, this is not the fantasy I have been working on since July. This all just came to me last night, after watching TTT (don't ask why, seeing as it takes place in the Fellowship). I know it's short, but if I do another chapter I promise it to be longer. It will become more of an angsty fic, but for the time being just tell me what you think. I have tried before to write a LOTR fic, but it got TOTALLY screwed. Tell me if I have or haven't recovered from the land of patheticness. R&R!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR. *sniff * I want it so bad!  
  
  
  
"Fly you fools!"  
  
Those three words seemed to echo, resounding in the minds of the eight remaining Fellowship. And they fled, as bid by their fallen friend. Oblivious to the shallow rain of arrows raining past them, they ran, determined to fulfill the wizard's last wish.  
  
At last, they reached the exit, and they halted. Sobs broke the silent air, tears running over the sun dried rock. Filled with rage, Gimli struggled to return to Moria, to avenge Gandalf, only restrained by Boromir's firm arm. Merry comforted Pippin, though he too felt the immense sorrow. Frodo wandered away from the others, and Aragorn called to him, and he returned. A gentle breeze disturbed the land, and the bright sun shone merrily down, blind to the troubles of Middle Earth.  
  
"Legolas, get them up," he called to the golden haired elf. Yet Legolas continued walking, not turning back, or answering Aragorn's call. "Legolas!" The call came firmer.  
  
"Give them a moment, for pities sake!" Boromir protested, the sorrow evident in his voice as well. All were stricken by Gandalf's passing.  
  
"By night these hills will be swarming with orcs! Come now, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."  
  
Boromir and Gimli saw the reason in Aragorn's words, and went to draw the hobbits from their weeping. Yet Legolas merely turned to Aragorn. His stormy grey eyes glittered, and a single, much unwanted tear ran over a high cheekbone, coming to a stop at the corner of pale lips. Aragorn returned his gaze, the deep anguish set within him revealed only to his elven friend. For Aragorn had been close friends with Gandalf, and as much as he hid it, Legolas saw the pain hidden in his heart.  
  
Aragorn turned, to begin the road to Lothlorien, and the others followed suit. But a soft voice stopped them, and they turned to see Legolas, gazing down at the stone below a cliff. Mournful pools of grey turned to them, pleading them to tell him that this was all a dream.  
  
"He is gone." A scarce nod moved Aragorn's head. "And he fell without aid."  
  
"He did not wish for aid," Aragorn reasoned. "He did not wish for our lives too to be put at risk."  
  
Legolas laughed a crazy, quiet laugh. "At risk? What risk was there, for the Balrog had fallen?"  
  
"The orcs, they would have made to shoot at us." Aragorn was alert, aware of an angry glint in the elf's eye.  
  
"But still, we could have avoided their arrows. I at least could have gone to his aid. I could have dodged the arrows of the orcs." Legolas paused, and turned to stare into Aragorn's eyes, avoiding the other's gazes. "And yet still I stood, like a cold, stone statue. Cold and silent."  
  
"As did we all Legolas. It is not your fault."  
  
"No, Aragorn. It is my fault." Those soft, grey orbs glimmered, and it crushed Aragorn's heart to see his dear friend so sad. "I ran with you all from the Balrog. And when it stood before Gandalf, I too stared in helpless horror. Perhaps the rest of you were helpless, for swords and knives could not have touched the demon." Legolas reached slowly to his quiver, drawing an arrow. He stroked the soft feathers, running his fingers along the shaft. "But an arrow. An arrow, swift and well aimed, could have pierced it. And there it would have ended." He tossed aside the missile. "But it did not, and I failed to protect my friend."  
  
"Nay, Legolas, this is false!" Aragorn stepped forward to the elf, aware of the tears streaming down his friend's face. "An arrow could never have hurt the demon. Naught could have pierced it but magic. None are at fault, my friend."  
  
"You call me your friend." Legolas turned back to face the landscape before him. "And yet, what is a friend if he cannot protect those dear to him? What is a friend, who makes no move to aid? A friend who is a statue."  
  
"Legolas."  
  
"I am undeserving of your friendship, Aragorn. Statues have no hearts."  
  
Here, Aragorn stopped. He stared pleadingly at the grief stricken elf before him, and he felt tears begin to gather in the corner of his eyes. "Nay, Legolas. You are more of a friend that any could ask for. Do not deny yourself, Legolas. Come back to us. You need not suffer alone."  
  
"Would I really be of use to the Fellowship, Aragorn? I cannot protect, I cannot help. I have proved my unworthiness. I can see through your eyes. Each of you loath me, I know it. You each know I easily could have run to grasp Gandalf's hand. So why do you persist? Why do you not just leave me here? You do not wish for me, you do not need me."  
  
The hobbits listened to Legolas banter on. In Moria, they had marveled at his capability with the bow. And now they listened, disbelieving, seeing the grief in the elf's eyes overwhelm all common sense. Even Gimli now felt for the elf. And he did not want him to feel like this.  
  
"Legolas, listen to me." Now Aragorn came to Legolas, and lay his hands on the slender shoulders of the elf. Legolas' tear streaked face rose to greet the pleading eyes of Aragorn. He could hear the suppressed short sobs escaping the elf's lips. "You are and always shall be a valiant elf. You have nothing to feel ashamed of. Now return to us, for we must reach Lothlorien."  
  
Pale hands reached upwards, and removed the rough hands of his friend. "Go without me, for I am no more use here." His hopelessly lost eyes searched Aragorn's, for what could not be guessed. He turned back to the cliff. "I will let you be. I will let all of Middle Earth be, for I shall be looked down upon as incapable of what I am meant to do."  
  
Aragorn suddenly knew what the elf intended. Why did not he see it earlier? "No, Legolas!" he cried in dismay, and reached out to pull back his friend.  
  
But Legolas was out of reach. He stepped forward, and did not look back as his foot set on air, and his body followed the plummet to far below stone.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Maybe, I'll continue. I'm sorry this first chapter was so short, but I wanted to test my ability with LOTR actually serious fics. What do you think? Should I continue? Does it absolutely stink to smelly hell? Personally, I don't think it's too great, but give me your opinion. This is infact a Legolas angst fic, and will become more serious if I decide to continue. I will love you if you review, for all eternity!  
  
Note to people who really and truly think I would let Legolas die without suffering a bit more: ..Well, you can guess what I'm gonna say, so just forget it.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	2. Unfinished Buisness

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your gracious reviews! And, yes, I realize I am updating very quickly, but boredom needs a cure. I trust you will all hate me for the most part of this chapter, but OH WELL! R&R, I have a good story plan.  
  
  
  
In helpless horror, the Fellowship stared as Aragorn coaxed Legolas to return to them. And, not even an hour following the loss of Gandalf, Legolas fell.  
  
"NO!" Aragorn cried out, but Legolas was already falling.. falling the ever long distance to the rocky terrain bellow. Aragorn whirled about to face the Fellowship with wide, terror stricken eyes. He said nothing, but sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him over hard, inconsistent land. The Fellowship needed no invitation to follow. Down, down they spiraled, leaping over the obstacles set to slow their pace.  
  
Tireless, Aragorn banished his previous weary thoughts. He ran far ahead of the rest, desperate to save his friend. The welcoming sun now grew hot, angry and unforgiving. The gentle breeze elevated to a gale with the speed at which he ran. Randomly, he chose which corners to take, and which way to travel. There was no time any more. Time had forsaken them.  
  
A great boulder loomed up, and Aragorn swiftly dodged to the left, leaping over a jagged barrier of smaller rocks. He knew the hobbits could not keep his pace, but he trusted Gimli and Boromir to lead them on.  
  
There, among a patch of determinedly growing grass and weeds, lay a crumpled figure, unmoving.  
  
"Ai Elbereth," Aragorn breathed out. He ran to Legolas, and knelt beside him. His fingers stroked the stray golden hair, as helpless tears dripped from his eyes. The rocks and absently scattered branches lining the cliff and ground had torn the tunic of the elf. Several shallow cuts decorated his fair face, though dripped no blood upon his cheeks. Inspecting further down the limp body, his eyes came to rest upon Legolas' arms and hands. Aragorn rolled up the elf's sleeves. His right was intact, but for random small bruises. But the left held a deep gash running from the lower arm to the shoulder. Blood seeped quickly from the cut. Tearing a strip of cloth from his own garments, Aragorn bound the wound to stall the bleeding. He realized how rapid and panicked his breathing had become, but did not allow himself space to calm.  
  
Further inspection revealed a crimson stained section of the tunic, running diagonally from the left of Legolas' chest, down to his right side. Urgently, Aragorn carefully removed the tunic, praying to the Valar that his friend would live, if it were that he was still alive.  
  
As the tunic freed the stomach and chest of the elf, it also freed a great wound, deep and wide, slicing through the pale flesh. Rapid waterfalls and lakes of warm, crimson liquid ran free, falling upon grey rocks, and staining the few strands of flimsy grass.  
  
"No, no, ai Elbereth, no." Hopelessness shrouded all Aragorn's thought. He had seen this type of wound before.. he knew now undeniably serious a cut this deep was, and how the life would seep from the cut and flow away with the rapids of blood..  
  
He turned to Legolas' face, and saw the pool of scarlet set in his mouth. Returning to gaze at the elf's wound, he listened and stared silently, hoping for a sign of breath.he lay his head lightly over his friend's stomach..  
  
Silence.  
  
Silence, and nothing more. No movement. Nothing.  
  
Soft, padding footsteps approached, as the remainder of the Fellowship sprinted towards the two. Nothing was said, as they perceived the great slash across their elf friend's front, and the kneeling, weeping figure of their leader.  
  
And there they stood, as rains of tears meddled with the crimson flow, and the rivers flowed on, over rocks and peaks, crusting eventually as twilight fell, and leaving a mark of the immense sorrow suffered there.  
  
* * *  
  
How long he had lay at the mercy of his own tears, Aragorn did not know. But what he did know was too devastating for him to think about. He roused the others, some from exhausted sleep, others from quiet sobbing.  
  
"Come, my friends, for we can linger here no longer." He raised his eyes to the sky, and saw the merging pastels of pink, yellow, orange and purple, veiling the blue sky in the twilight. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen, once valiant elf before him. "He does not deserve to lie here for all eternity. Let us take him to Lothlorien, where he may be paid the honour he deserves."  
  
The pain throbbing within his heart could not be withheld, as stray tears fled silently from his dark eyes. Gently, he hoisted Legolas so that one hand supported his upper back, and the other supported his knees.  
  
Thus, the Fellowship departed Moria, two less than when they entered.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas wandered the Halls of Mandos, wondering at their splendour. No more he felt the pain of his wounds, for he knew he had passed out of the time of Middle-earth, and into the realm of Valinor.  
  
Aimlessly, he strayed down the many corridors, seeking what, he did not know. No thought entered his head, and he let his feet wander where they may.  
  
Without warning, a splendid figure loomed up before him. Glory and might resonated from the mesmerizing form, though Legolas did not fear him. He knew well who stood before him.  
  
"Manwë," he said, as he kneeled, respecting the high God.  
  
"Legolas, why dost thou forsake them?" Manwë asked, and shook his head as if disappointed.  
  
Legolas looked up, confusion clouding his stormy grey eyes.  
  
"The Fellowship, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood," the God said. "Why dost thou leave them so needlessly?"  
  
Legolas shook his head hopelessly. "I am of no use to them. If I cannot protect one friend, I cannot protect the rest."  
  
"Nay, Legolas. Thy mind is clouded with grief. Thou do not see the reason. This madness is folly, dear prince." The soft, forgiving eyes radiated with pity.  
  
"I do not belong among them. An elf would have been able to run and grasp Mithrandir's hand. And that simplest of acts I failed to do."  
  
"Thou art blinded by thy sorrow, Prince Legolas. There is naught for thou to feel against thy self." Manwë placed his warm hands on Legolas' shoulders. "I am sorry, my child. But thou cannot rest here. Thy purpose upon Eä is not yet fulfilled. Those near to thou still shall have need of thy aid. Now return to Middle-earth, dear prince, and return to those who beckon you."  
  
And as Aragorn ran carrying his fallen friend, he heard a faint, weak cough sputter from those dead, pale lips, which no more were lifeless.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
A/N: Oh crap... *Ducks at random flying objects being thrown *  
  
Hahahahaha, fooled you all, didn't I? That was SOOOOOO much fun to write. SADISTS UNITE!!!!!!!!!! So, I have just begun reading The Silmarilion, and I believe that Eä is another name for Middle-earth, but would someone who indeed has read and does understand The Silmarilion please clarify that for me?  
  
For those others of you, Manwë is the mightiest of all the Valar, the creators of Middle-earth. And just for the information, Elbereth is one of the Valar. She is the goddess of the stars, I believe. But if I am indeed wrong about anything in here, please inform me of it!  
  
Also, are there any people out there who can speak Elvish? I intend to learn it with one of my friends, but who knows when we will, so is there anyone I can contact to translate if I ever have need of translation?  
  
I know I have updated quickly, but I refuse to do homework until the New Year and am very bored lately. So, I promise, this will have some good twists in it. I just came up with a whole load of ideas just a while ago.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	3. I Am Fine

A/N: Vedui, melloneamin!!!!!  
  
Thank you all SOOOOOOOOOO much for your reviews. I love you all! And I am attempting to learn elven from www.greycompany.org, though I have not gotten very far.  
  
And I have made up the basic story line for this fic. Mwahahahahahaha.  
  
That's all I'm gonna say.  
  
Yours Truly: thank you very much for your advice on death! It's actually dead on, now that I think about it. You practically wrote poetry right there! I do intend to get inside their heads more!  
  
To everyone else: go read the fics by Yours Truly! They're amazing! Also, if you're bored and looking for some light reading, my short story Spiders is a possible consideration. I uploaded it all at once when I finished it (it was due the next morning, first period, so I was up very late and did not intend to return to it).  
  
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!!!!!!! *sobs * Dagnabit.. I forgot to do a disclaimer for the last chapter. NO ONE SUE ME! I'M INNOCENT!!!!!!  
  
* * *  
  
Aragorn slid to a halt, forcing those behind to skid around in front to avoid knocking into him. Curious eyes stared at him for a moment, though they quickly grew to astonishment.  
  
Gimli ran up, having been somewhat slower than the others. "What are we sto-," the words dried up between his lips, as he perceived the Elven body before him, "By the Valar, he lives!"  
  
Ever so gently, Aragorn lay Legolas upon the soft earth, as the blood spilt from his mouth onto the slashed chest. He supported the elf's head, so he would not choke on his own blood. For a time, the Fellowship could do nothing more but stand, and watch as their friend returned from death.  
  
Finally, the violent cough dimmed to nothing and Aragorn set Legolas' head on the ground. A moment went by, and all hopes of life seemed to fade. Yet just as Aragorn began to set his hopes against him, he caught the slight movement of the elf's chest.  
  
Grey eyes flickered, fading in and out of reality. At first, Legolas felt nothing, and everything was numb. A tingling began in his toes, flowing up his legs, to his stomach and chest; like a wave of the sea. And all at once, the pain hit him.  
  
All his body ached, though his torso and stomach burned. He also felt a none-too-gentle throbbing in his wrist.  
  
Aragorn's breath hastened, as he saw the gradual life returning to his friend. How could this be happening? Not more than two hours ago, Legolas had been dead; without a pulse, and without breath. Now he could see the eyes flicking about beneath the closed lids, and the calm rise and fall of his chest. Where once there had been death, there now was life.  
  
He bent over Legolas, pleading for him to waken; pleading for a sign that this was real, and not some sick joke or dream.  
  
And so it became that indeed there was no falseness in the elf's wakening. Soon, Legolas' eyes opened into the world, and gazing tiredly at the man kneeling over him. He shivered, as a blast of dusk's cool air descended upon him, followed by gusts of chilled wind, endlessly battering at his quivering figure.  
  
"Aragorn.?"  
  
That one word, from that voice.it seemed impossible, yet that name floated to Aragorn's ears, and he welcomed it with relief. Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes, this time not of dismay, but of joy. He could hear the frantic steps of the others, rushing in to the elf and man, to see if indeed the dead had awoken.  
  
"Legolas." Words failed him, as he gazed down at the elf, disbelieving, yet knowing with ecstasy that every moment was real. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes, I am fine, I think." Legolas spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary battle wound had happened. But, then again, Aragorn reminded himself, Legolas is a proud and valiant warrior. He would not admit if indeed he felt something was wrong.  
  
"Are you sure?" He spent these words slowly and carefully, as if telling a young child of something very important.  
  
"Yes, yes, Aragorn. I am fine," Legolas insisted. He rolled onto his side, and set his hands on the green earth to push himself up. As he set pressure upon his wrists, his left gave out beneath him, and he could not restrain a slight cry. Several sickening cracks and snaps sounded. The hobbits shuddered.  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Nay, Legolas, you are not fine. And I will not let you tell me so. We are going to Lothlorien, and I insist to carry you."  
  
Legolas' grey orbs suddenly turned defiant and cold. "I am fine. Just help me stand, and I can go on my own." He grimaced as he cradled his broken wrist.  
  
"Nay, my friend. Disregard your pride, and admit that you are indeed not all that well."  
  
Legolas was about to protest, but Gimli stepped forward. "Master elf," he said with a hint of exasperation, "perhaps if you would merely cooperate, we could reach the woods ere each of us would perish."  
  
Aragorn worked hard to suppress a smile, seeing past the annoyed tone and finding some concern and good will for the elf.  
  
"Nay, master dwarf. I will go on my own. I need no aid."  
  
"Ah," said Aragorn with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "But have I not always been the more rebellious of us two?" Without waiting for a response, he quickly swooped down upon the elf, and picked him up. Legolas rolled his eyes, and tried to appear angered; but the two friends could not hide their grins.  
  
The Fellowship ran on, moving swift and quietly over the countryside. After little time, Aragorn looked down to see his friend asleep. The elf was exhausted, and now and again he would cough up blood. A journey to death and back again was not easy.  
  
Ahead of them, a towering forest loomed up over the horizon. Lothlorien at last was within reach. Twilight had past, and darkness now descended upon the world with wings of darkness, though it was a clear night, with all the stars twinkling merrily above them. Gimli grew anxious as they approached the Elf dominated woodland. He, too, ran a little faster, though more out of a desire to keep pace than to reach the forest.  
  
Aragorn did not stop, and even quickened his pace as they entered the forest. But as they wandered deeper into the woods, he slowed to a wary walk. He was searching. searching for other elves, or of the lofty houses in the trees in which the Lorien Elves dwelt.  
  
But he at last halted when he walked almost directly into an arrow tip.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: MOOFA!  
  
Wow, it kinda began like crap, but I think it got better. Please R&R!  
  
Critiques are VEEEEEEERY much appreciated. Any tips or ideas or aaaaaanything, I'll take it! R&R! Critiques never taken the wrong way! 


	4. Silent Darkness

A/N: I'm SOOOOOOO sorry for the delay of chapter four, but my computer died completely on me for 5 days (during which it was absolutely HELL), but also during which I have come up with more sadistic ideas. I have also developed a new style of writing, sort of Lord of the Rings-ish. I am also highly obsessed and sympathetic for Elves. I keep getting sadder every time I see Haldir die..  
  
Guess what? My mom and dad want me to publish my story Spiders, which I wrote for an LA assignment, and got 99%.. the mark lost for underlining the title of my Table of Contents. *Scowls *  
  
Once again, I own nothing Tolkienish. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. NOTHING!!!!!! *Sob *  
  
On with the show.. erm.. story!!!!!!! Sorry if any elvish is wrong, but I have only recently been informed that The Grey Company is not pure Tokien, and have not had time to find other things.  
  
Yours Truly: That Sindarin dictionary.where can I find it? *rubbing hands greedily *  
  
* * *  
  
"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." Forth from the band of golden haired elves came Haldir, guardian of Lothlorien. Gimli huffed, but remained silent. Then Haldir's eyes came to fall upon the battered, peacefully sleeping elf in Aragorn's strong arms.  
  
"Ai Elbereth, Aragorn, mani marte?" Haldir uttered quietly, not taking his eyes from Legolas.  
  
"There is time yet for explanations later, Haldir of Lorien. Now we seek your shelter and protection."  
  
Gimli was beginning to feel more and more nervous, staring into the deadly arrow tips only restrained by the hateful woodland elves. "Aragorn! These woods are perilous. We should go back."  
  
Haldir now looked to the dwarf. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the wood. You cannot go back. Come, and quickly," he looked worriedly down at Legolas. "She is waiting."  
  
Haldir turned, and without glancing back, bounded back the way he had come. Aragorn just as swiftly ran after him, careful with the fragile form resting in his arms. The others followed silently.  
  
Haldir slowed just enough until Aragorn caught up. He spoke quietly, hoping not to trouble the rest of the Fellowship. "Tell me, Aragorn, what happened to him?"  
  
Aragorn looked down at the elf, studying the deep slash across his front, as if he, too, could not comprehend what had taken place. He shook his head. "To tell you the truth, Haldir, I do not believe I know enough to tell you. But I worry for him, though he claims to be fine."  
  
Haldir shook his head, still genuinely puzzled. "Let us be swift, then. He will be treated in our city." No more was said between the two, as they ran on towards the city in the trees.  
  
* * *  
  
"Eight that there are here, yet nine there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him?" Celeborn inquired of the Fellowship, with an ancient, yet unaged face of wisdom. All were silent, for none wished to recount the earlier events.  
  
Galadriel then spoke, with her musical, enchanting voice, captivating the minds of those before her. "He has fallen into shadow." Genuine shock and horror there was in her words, as she understood the sorrowful thoughts of the Fellowship. Yet quickly she moved on from the topic, knowing the despair of the seven before her.  
  
Aragorn, however, did not pay heed to her spoken words, for her voice entered his head, and spoke to him.  
  
What has become of Legolas, Aragorn son of Arathorn?  
  
That, I cannot fathom, my lady. He speaks as if he is well, but I fear for him.  
  
Fear no more, Isildur's heir. He is mending, and is in the care of our best healers.  
  
What of his condition? Is there anything serious wrong?  
  
Galadriel's voice wavered in laughter, a sound almost childish in its merriment, from the most ancient of elves. Legolas heals quickly. Nay, Aragorn, you have naught to fear for. Although he has yet to awake, his wounds seal, and they are not great.  
  
Then I have fretted all along for naught.  
  
Galadriel's voice then ceased in its laughter, and became grave. Not quite, son of Arathorn. Not quite. A barely audible sigh could be heard only to Aragorn, as he listened on in anxiety. A return from Mandos is something that does not rest one's soul. Be careful with him, Aragorn. His spirit may yet be fragile.  
  
Aragorn faded out from the voices in his mind, and heard only the last of Galadriel and Celeborn's words. With words of comfort, they were sent quietly away from the Elven chamber. Aragorn turned to leave, but a gentle hand on his shoulder restrained him. He turned to find Haldir.  
  
"Come, Aragorn. Follow me." Nothing more was needed to encourage him to follow. Oblivious to Aragorn's leave, the rest of the Fellowship blundered on through the magnificent wonders of the golden wood, in search of silent consoling from naught but the peace lingering in the still forest air.  
  
* * *  
  
Slight breath could be heard gratefully from the Elven prince of Mirkwood. A distance from the sleeping Elf sat Haldir and Legolas, conversing in quiet undertones, so as not to disturb him.  
  
"Tell me what you know, Aragorn, and what remains shall be said from Legolas," pleaded Haldir, for he knew the prince's wounds not to be of sword and arrow.  
  
Aragorn sighed in defeat. "We ran from Moria, and collapsed in the glory of warm sunlight upon the cliffs abiding outside the mines. All were stricken by Gandalf's fall, yet we had to move on. Nearly we departed, but Legolas remained, standing still like a thing of stone, peering out across the world. He spoke of guilt, believing that he could have prevented death, falsely trusting that he was no good for the Fellowship." Aragorn sighed wearily. "Ere I could move, he had vanished off the steep slope of rock."  
  
Disbelief clouded Haldir's gaze. "Those cliffs are treacherous. Death only could result of a fall that long."  
  
Aragorn's troubled blue gaze rose to meet the confusion of the guardian. "And that it did, my friend. For hours, death conquered him. Yet as we ran, life flowed again weakly in his veins, and he returned weary to us." Disquieted haze misted Aragorn's mind and eyes. "When he wakes, do not speak of our words. He would not wish any to know of what he said, and how he acted.  
  
Haldir nodded subtle understanding, and silence settled in the air about them, as Elven healers tended to the fallen prince of Mirkwood.  
  
* * *  
  
Darkness began to lift from the world; senses began to flow naturally again. Numbness.nothing had feeling..  
  
Too suddenly, again, it did.  
  
His torso and chest ached terribly. He could feel some of his ribs were cracked, and a dull pain throbbed in his slight wrist. Quiet murmuring flowed through the peaceful air, and he lay, not awake, yet not asleep, waiting for the quiet again. The trees whispered amongst themselves, though he was too weary to listen. And.real voices.people.not alone. Could they not just leave? Could he not linger on in the unspoken peace of darkness? But unconsciousness denied his wishes, and he felt reality absorb his body. Sight descended upon his surroundings, slowly revealing a magically glimmering city resting in the wide malorn trees.  
  
Where am I.how did I get here? Who is moving? Who is talking? Why did they stop? What happened? Why do I ache? Who stands above me?  
  
Memories.  
  
Memories bombarded his gentle heart mercilessly, playing over and over relentless mental pictures..  
  
Mithrander.  
  
Fallen.  
  
Running.  
  
Falling.  
  
Dead..  
  
No.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
The elf emerged from his thoughts, staring with wide, innocent eyes at the man standing over him.  
  
"Legolas? How do you feel?" He could not miss the slight edge of instruction in Aragorn's voice, like a mother chiding a stubborn child.  
  
"Aragorn.I.." His voice trailed off. How would he respond? Surely Aragorn had not forgotten the earlier events. "When did we arrive in Lorien?" He avoided the subject. He moved to sit up, but the strong hands of another elf restrained him. Too weak with confusion and an unreasonable exhaustion, he relented and slid back down. "Haldir?"  
  
"Aye, Prince Legolas. Rest. You are weary."  
  
I should not be, thought Legolas. I have slept while the others toiled onwards. Why am I so weary? I have not the right to rest still.  
  
Legolas once more fought to rise, but again he was held back. "Please, my prince. By tomorrow you shall be able to wander these woods. You heal swift, but without rest you will never recover." Legolas hated being treated like a child; but there was truth in Haldir's words, and he yielded.  
  
He perceived the healers tending to his body, bandaging his wounds, stifling blood. And as he watched on, his senses ebbed from reality into a world of silent black, where he no longer thought, and time passed unconsciously by in quiet streams of blurred nothingness.  
  
* * *  
  
The quiet murmuring of the trees came softly to the Elven ears. He listened.he longed for the dense forests of Mirkwood, where once he wandered, springing from tree to tree, escaping the prison of the palace. His heart pleaded him to remain here, where he could live without the royal boundaries.  
  
Indeed, the pain of his wounds had diminished to barely a throb, and now Legolas wandered alone the vast wonders of Lothlorien. He then sprang upon the low branch of a particularly tall tree, and darting from limb to limb, felt the joy and boundless freedom he once felt when he was merely one hundred years of age.  
  
He came to rest upon a bare, wide branch, and there sat, peering over and through the mingling boughs of the woods. And sorrow once more came to rest heavily upon his heart.  
  
I have caused so much grief for the others.too much trouble for them. How difficult the hobbits must be finding this.and then I go and add to it.what use is an elf if he merely adds to the tears of those he knows?  
  
One friend remains on this journey.and I do not consider laying my thoughts upon the already troubled mind of Aragorn. Mithrander.he has left us.and he may still be here, had I ran to his rescue. What do they think of me? Surely they disgrace me; I cannot save my dear friend, and in that I rest continually more malady upon already grief-ridden minds.  
  
By now, tears had begun to christen the fair cheeks of the elf, and he wiped them away hurriedly, as if someone was watching. Softly, he began to chant a song through his suppressed sobs, through his deep misery oblivious to a stalking creature below him.  
  
* * *  
  
CHRIST, I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS!!!!!!!! *Ducks from randomly throw objects *  
  
I am going to start on chapter 5 RIGHT NOW! I have SUCH good plans for this story. I have created Legolas' song (called "Lament"), and a wonderful reviewer, whom I do not know the pen name of, is currently translating it, but I love you anywayz!  
  
Chapter five to go up as soon as the song is translated and/or as soon as I finish typing it. Tell me how that was. Note: I know this is kind of going on with the same old stuff, but TWISTS TO COME!!!!!!!  
  
Mwahahaha...  
  
R&R!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	5. Silver Rivers

A/N: Ho hum, it truly is difficult to get to sleep with relentless thoughts of elf torment battering one's already sadistically disturbed mind. =) From this chapter/chapter 4 forth, I have concluded to respond to everyone's review. Just for the fun of it. I just got The Two Towers soundtrack! It's really good! The best part is when the Elven army marches into Helms Deep. The music there's amazing.  
  
I was going to get the song Legolas sings in elvish, but I've been waiting for weeks, and am DYING to post this chapter, so voila. So very sorry for the delay. Also, my computer hates me and decided to shut off Word every time I tried to go on.  
  
Celebwen Starmaiden: *ducks from shoes * I am going out to buy a shield today for the paperweight threat. ;) And thanks for adding me! *bows * I'm honoured!  
  
Forest Elfin: You're right; he's not out of the woods yet. But.not figuratively, he soon will be.figuratively, not for a long time. Mwaha.  
  
Luke&Matthias: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Fairylady: I know. It's fun to write cliffhangers!  
  
Szhismine: *ducks * I get a lot of that.I should go buy a shield.  
  
Kaimelieamin: Hurrying.wow, how did you rip your sink out.?  
  
Disclaimer: Newsflash: I OWNTHE WORLD AND AM GRADUALLY SWAYING IT TO MY WAYS!!!!!!! *Ducks from furiously thrown history textbooks * O, FINE THEN! I own nothing.NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME? THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!!!!!  
  
World: YES!  
  
Well.that may be true.but WillingtheRain and I (aka: J and I) are swaying the world to our evil ways! Mwahahahahahha!!!!!!! BE AFRAID!  
  
World: PTHBT! *Sticks out tongues at a recently gothic-but-not-a-goth soulsearcher *  
  
Go figure.  
  
O, and this chapter begins slightly before Legolas started climbing trees.  
  
* * *  
  
"The elf is healed. We must move on now," Boromir stated bluntly.  
  
Aragorn resented Boromir's blindness. Could he not see the Elf's weakened state? Over night, he had regained strength, but still his body remained to heal. And something troubled the elf. Aragorn wanted to watch him for a few days, just to be sure.  
  
"Nay, Boromir. I have known Legolas for many years, and there is still strength left to return to him."  
  
"Then we go slow for a little time, until he has regained his full strength. But we must move on!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Why are you in such a hurry to leave these woods, Boromir? Surely you find peace here. The others have." Except Legolas, he thought.  
  
A sigh flew from Boromir's lips, drifting upon the midday air, unknowingly letting the trees know of his unrest. "I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me even now there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." Boromir now sat alongside Aragorn, shaking his head in pure uncertainty.  
  
Aragorn stared into Boromir's eyes, searching for a glimmer of something good. something that did not threaten to snuff out the veiled hope that none seemed able to perceive. "Then rest here, and free your mind of your troubles. Long you have toiled under the nagging thoughts of your kingdom. Let them go, if only for a while, and be at peace. There is always hope." Silence overcame Boromir, and Aragorn rose, and set to wandering the powers of this vast wood.  
  
Gimli had secretly been watching the two. Though he held a strong dislike for the elf, he could not deny that indeed not all his strength was there. But indeed, he wished the elf would quit feeling his self-pity, skulking beneath the canopy of broad leaves. As Aragorn took his leave, the dwarf too turned from that place, and set off alone.  
  
He could not help feeling somewhat anxious, for he wandered the home of woodland elves, and he met the hateful glares sent his way each time with more and more distaste, though never showing his nervousness. To what extent these creatures disgusted him, he did not know, and did not trust them.  
  
Throughout Lothlorien, there were no paths, for the light feet of the native elves. He ambled just far enough so that he would not loose the way back, and there he halted. What for, he knew not, but a presence drifted about this place. Even more on edge, he kept fingering his axe. Stalking beneath the malorn giants, he crept through the foliage riddling the earth, not knowing what or whom he hunted.  
  
Suddenly, a faint melody came to his ears, and he ceased. For a moment, silence reigned, but again the music returned. The dwarf listened in breathless wonder. Though the words were foreign to him, the tune tugged at his heart. Tearful.almost grievous was the song, yet beautiful in its sadness, and he searched for who might be singing. Haunting it was, to hear such sorrow, drifting in and around the trees, with seemingly no source.  
  
"Stars that shine upon Those who are lost, Now turn your light upon me. For he who once guided me Has gone. I fear I may stray from my path; Shadows shroud my vision; Blinded, I stumble forward, Towards the light to which I am drawn.  
  
"Lonely winds, dancing through the leaves, Sing to me your mourning songs, And let me add my grieving voice; Let the moon hear our chant. And let her say unto the dead How life misses you. You are bid return from Valinor, Yet chance at your wish for such is scant.  
  
"Rivers of tears, do not set me afloat. I beg you to allow me to drown. The dangers off road I dread as to death, For I have strayed upon sorrows renown."  
When he peered up, into the mingling limbs of the nearest tree, he perceived a sight he truly never thought he would see. There sat Legolas, among the higher branches, perfectly balanced. He rocked back and forth, embracing his knees, and it was impossible not to miss the silver gleam of liquid cascading his cheeks.  
  
Gimli had only ever known elves to be hateful and ceaseless in their actions. Always he had thought an elf never to weep, and there roosted Legolas, an Elven prince, lamenting his sorrows, and suddenly seeming fragile, contrary to the warrior Gimli had always known him and his kindred to be.  
  
Legolas' song came to an end, and the elf slowly let the resonating notes die on the breeze. And only after silence once more ruled it's powerful force, he heard the whisper of the trees. They were anxious.someone they did not know was here.someone they had never encountered before.  
  
Suddenly wary, Legolas listened closer.breathing.someone was below him, standing stalk still. He needed not look to know this. Who it was, he did not know, but friendly was not the first thing to come to mind. Silently, he drew his knife from its sheath and prepared to ambush the oblivious stalking form.  
  
A sudden whoosh of air was all the warning Gimli had, and ere he could move, the cold steel of an elven knife was pressed hard against his throat. The knife ceased in its deadly slice almost as quick as it had begun, and Gimli stood breathless, panting as the knife was drawn away. A disapproving sigh drifted from behind the dwarf.  
  
"Master dwarf, you should know better than to leave your entrance to silence in the presence of an elf," chided Legolas, as he sheathed his blade. "We hear more than you care to know."  
  
As Gimli turned around to face the elf, he noted that there was not a sign that he had been weeping. His icy eyes held no more emotion than annoyance, his face smooth and clear of grief. "Well, perhaps if you didn't keep wandering off alone, no one would come looking for you. From what do you hide? Why do you prefer lone wandering, while others are merry in their company?"  
  
"That is my business, and none of yours," Legolas snapped, though with more edge than he had wished to imply.  
  
Gimli shook his head, muttering: "Elves are too stubborn. Too full of pride to join those who they think are less fair than they are."  
  
Legolas whirled dangerously upon the dwarf, a smouldering flame burning in the blue orbs. "And what of the dwarves? Hiding away in the deep places of the earth, emerging to daylight only when they themselves are in danger; not a care for the other races of this world."  
  
"Hold your tongue, master elf!" Gimli too now arose in anger, equal to Legolas though perhaps not in stature, but in rage. "And what would the son of Thranduil know of such matters? Who would expect the son of he who caused my people so much trouble many years ago to live peacefully with a dwarf? Your father respects naught but the trees in which he foolishly lives."  
  
And thus a fully-fledged argument came upon the two, who up until that point were able to ignore the other in distasteful silence. Long through the day and deep into the night they shouted at each other, searing wrath burning in their eyes, threatening to thrash all common sense into shards of misery. Far from the Fellowship and dwellings of the other Elves, none heard the racket.  
  
As the first lights of dawn peered over the horizon, filtering a small glowing light into the forest, still they yelled and screamed. Tears glistened in their eyes, streaming down their faces, each their pride beaten and all they held dear slighted. Until at last all enragement drove upon them a last comment from the flaming mouth of the dwarf.  
  
"Elves are faster than all the races of Middle-earth, and there you stand, and watch Gandalf slip in the time you could have ran to him!" The moment the first word flew from his lips, Gimli regretted saying it, but he went on to finish the sentence in a fury of shame.  
  
Legolas stared at the dwarf, the flame in his eyes smothering to ashes. He staggered backwards, carefully keeping his balance. Gimli stared with wide eyes, not believing what he had just done. Idiot dwarf, he thought to himself.  
  
"Legolas." He was unable to complete the thought. Why did he have to say that? Why.? Legolas sat down upon a small boulder, merely staring quietly with eyes of melancholy at the earth. Gimli moved to sit beside him.  
  
"Legolas, I'm sorry, it was no one's fault."  
  
Legolas lifted his head, and gazed into Gimli's repentant eyes. "It's alright, Gimli." He said, offering a small smile to reassure the dwarf. "Just.let me be alone for a while. I'm fine." Gimli looked hesitant, but sighed, and wandered off back towards where the Fellowship was asleep.  
  
He waited until Gimli was well out of hearing range. Then he let his mask fall, and all his tears spill out onto the ground. You see, he screamed mentally, they all hate you. They all know it was your fault. And it was. "I know." he whispered weakly through his sobbing. "I know." He staggered off, heading away towards the borders of the wood, though he knew not of it. And there he leaned against a tree, face in hands, letting the silver rivers fall.  
  
* * *  
  
Even as the first lights filtered over the horizon, the Uruk-hai kept moving. Using the borders of Lothlorien as a guide, they ran swifter, fearing the elves dwelling there. But their leader held up his hand, and grunted out orders in the Black Speech. Grinning eagerly, the troupe rumbled off, separating, some cautiously spreading into the trees.  
  
The leader heard a sound.quiet, mournful.. Immediately he knew it to be elven, and soon he knew the elf was weeping. Moving in through the bush, he peered at the golden haired elf, sobbing.and alone. He spotted the others, well hidden among the foliage. The elf would not notice them amid his sorrow. They looked fervently to him for the signal to attack, but he held the position a while longer.  
  
How he delighted in the tears of the elf.  
  
* * *  
  
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! I PLANNED THAT ALL LAST NIGHT!! *Ducks from CONTINUALLY falling angrily thrown objects * I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Review, everyone, because I love you and you have full permission to through shoes at me, or anything else obligated to hurt.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	6. Where Black and Crimson Mingle

A/N: WOW! I never thought I'd have this many reviewers! I LOVE YOU ALL! I've changed personal notes to the end so you can get to the story quicker.  
  
I apologize for any type-os, but my cat was walking across the keyboard and rubbing herself in my face for the most part of this chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for any previously unheard-of characters that no one has created yet (namely Haelhnin)! But, I guess, in a way, they all belong to.*sniff *.Tolkien and not me. *Starts sobbing *  
  
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Legolas had long since known of their presence. Yet still he wept, unable to control the floods of tears streaming down his face.  
  
Let them have me. 'Tis naught more than I deserve. I let Mithrandir fall, and forced upon all those who knew him such grief. Indeed, does one who causes such not deserve to suffer as well?   
  
And in his mind came an undeniable answer. Knowing the orcs would take him; knowing their terrible sport, he thought he knew what was to come. He thought vaguely of what cruel, twisted, painful delight they would find, and could not prevent the tears. Yet that voice.that voice that could not possibly have been the once brave and noble elf's, yet existed only as his voice.it nagged at him, chiding him that this was right.that it was best for all Middle-earth, for naught good could come of a murderer wandering these lands freely. And he could not argue, for indeed it was himself, and though it pained him, he concurred with every word said.  
  
At last, he found that he could not cry any more. He wiped away the silver stains from his cheeks, raised his head, and stood stalk still. waiting. waiting for what he knew would be the worst thing he ever would encounter, and sacrificing his body willingly. He heard the husky breath, the twigs snapping under armoured feet. And still the elf stood, lingering in his last moments of freedom. He felt the tense excitement in the air; disturbed by the evil.he heard the trees whisper in alarm, and puzzlement at his actions. He knew soon the elves of Lothlorien would know of the invasion.he just prayed he would be gone by then.  
  
Suddenly, a whistle through the tense air alerted the elf, and his instincts overwhelmed his inner torment. His body moved to side step the arrow, yet he fought the movement, and too slowly he stepped. A ripping pain shot through his upper arm, as the thick arrow sank deep; past skin, tearing the muscle. Even as blood soaked his tunic, and he clutched the wound, gritting his teeth to prevent the scream the orcs so delighted in hearing, he stumbled forward in an unnaturally clumsy misery.  
  
A roar went up from behind the foliage-whether it was of thrill or of anger, Legolas could not tell. But it mattered not, as a fierce ambush of Uruk-hai burst into the forest, bombarding Legolas with vicious, cruelly welded weapons. Many blows he countered, and some beasts he felled, but he was wickedly outnumbered. And he knew this, and prayed that he would be taken ere the others came to his aid.  
  
* * *  
  
A new sun rose upon the blessed realm of Lothlorien, and all those who dwelt there awoke with the dawn. Light began to filter in through the canopy of leaves, quivering in the trivial breeze. Hearts of every creature felt restful, and worriless, for with a new morn came hope of new life.  
  
Gimli at first awoke to such tranquility, and sat for a while in silent calm. But as he glanced about at his sleeping companions, he perceived that Legolas was not there. He had thought the elf would return by the morning, but here there was no such evidence. Quickly grew his alarm, for the events of the night before had burdened him with an overhanging gloom of guilt, and he had no other presumption as to the elf's absence. Without notifying anyone, he set off in search of Legolas.  
  
Though they had not been friends, nor friendly in the least, Gimli felt pity for Legolas' grief. He had known that he was a friend of Gandalf's, and he knew of the dangerous sorrow of elves. And now he begged the Valour that Legolas was in no danger.for if he were, he would feel responsible for any harm that came to the elf.  
  
He came to the spot where the argument had taken place the night before. Shortly, he searched for clues as to where the elf may have wandered to, but his efforts were futile. Damned elves, he thought to himself. Leave no trace as to their whereabouts.  
  
For a ways, he continued onwards, stopping now and again at any sudden noise, hoping to death it were Legolas. But in vain it seemed his search, for no sign there was of the elf.  
  
Just as he was about to return, in hope that Legolas had gone to visit his kinsman of this forest, his eye caught a gleaming object in the newly risen sun. Warily, he stepped closer. Once he had a clear view of the object, he gasped, and staggered backwards. He lifted it gingerly, and wide-eyed retreated swiftly to where the Fellowship presently rested.  
  
* * *  
  
"Neither was present when I awoke. Have either passed this way through the night?" Aragorn questioned the young elf eagerly. The nervous air about him told Aragorn that he was new at guarding the forest.  
  
"Nay, my lord. None have passed this way. It has been a quiet night." Aragorn looked doubtful. "But I would not fear, my lord. These borders are well protected. There is little that could come to harm them." The young elf seemed keen to be of help. A grateful smile played on Aragorn's lips.  
  
"Thank you for your help, young one. What is your name?"  
  
"Haelhnin, my lord."  
  
"Aye, well, my thanks, Haelhnin. You are an excellent guard." Haelhnin's face glowed with pride as Aragorn turned to continue his search.  
  
"Oy! Aragorn!" Aragorn whirled at the familiar gruff voice to see Gimli running awkwardly towards him.  
  
"Gimli! Where have you been?" Gimli came to a skidding stop before Aragorn, and had to lean over to catch his breath.  
  
"This morning, I awoke to find Legolas missing. I have been searching for him." He trailed off, huffing, but Aragorn starred urgently on, hinting that there was more to be said. "I wandered far, near to the borders of these woods. I found this." He withdrew the object from his robes.  
  
Terror lit a dazzling flame in Aragorn's stormy eyes, as he took the dagger into his own hands. The beautifully carved blade, the hilt crafted delicately with care, he had seen this weapon wielded in deadly battle times afore this. Both black and crimson stained the steel knife. Black orcish blood.. red elven blood. "This is Legolas'," he murmured, his voice trailing off. "Gimli, where did you find this?" He nearly shouted the words, with more force than was meant. There should be no orcs in Lothlorien. They feared the realm, and the native elves. Either Legolas had emerged from the woods, or by some wicked force, the orcs had been drawn in. What could have done so, Aragorn did not wish to know.  
  
"I.I found it near the border.I am sure I could find the way again." The disquiet in Gimli's eyes was evident, and if it had been a different time, Aragorn would have grinned to see that the dwarf held some compassion along with his hate for the elf.  
  
"Haelhnin, come with me. I may need your help." He turned insistently to the young elf.  
  
"Lead the way, my lord." Aragorn turned back to Gimli, and without another word, they had set off. Though Gimli's pace was significantly slower, he shouted directions ahead at the sprinting couple.  
  
"By the Valar, that man could be an elf!" he muttered in disbelief to himself, wondering at Aragorn's unceasing speed and light stepping. Haelhnin kept perfect pace with the man, and Gimli urged himself onwards.  
In swift time, Gimli recognized the place where he had found the dagger. Both he and Haelhnin stood anxiously by, awaiting orders, as Aragorn scrutinized the area.  
  
Aragorn scanned the trampled earth fervently, searching for a sign, of what he knew not, but of something to assure Legolas was all right. Here and there, splashes of black and crimson stained the grass, where branches and leaves were snapped and laid into the ground where heavy feet had stepped.  
  
"There was a battle here. The orcs strayed into the woods."  
  
"The chances of that are extensively small, my lord. Orcs have not set foot in these lands for many long years. They fear this forest." Unease wavered in the young elf's voice. He wanted hard to deny that an elf had been attacked in one of the most protected of lands.  
  
The man shook his head in despair. "I know, Haelhnin. Yet there is not another leeway I can think of that would explain this. Evil has treaded here." He squinted hard at one section of earth, where so lightly was the grass flattened one may not have noticed. It was about a body's length. Pools of crusting crimson lingered about it. Suddenly, Aragorn realized what had taken place only a short while ago. Tears brimmed in Aragorn's eyes, but he held them back. He let his head fall in defeat.  
  
Haelhnin too perceived what Aragorn did. In a quivering voice, he whispered, "And evil has triumphed."  
* * *  
  
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! What happened to Legolas? Will we EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVER know? MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *ducks from randomly thrown stereos and cameras *  
Okay, THAT was fun. Tell what you think.. trust me, I have soooooo much stuff planned for this story. I AM THE QUEEN OF CLIFFHANGERS! Review, I love you for it!  
  
Nazgula: Oh, but I MUST torture you like this.Mwahahahahaha.  
  
Bobo: I know! I LOVE LEGGY! *hugs Legolas plushie *  
  
Fairylady: Trust me, I won't keep killing him. Just.well.. tormenting him. Mwaha. Cliffhangers are sooooooooooooo fun. Except most of my reviewers throw things at me, but that's okay!  
  
JediKnightBalthasar: You know, history textbooks bug me. I think I'll burn them. *starts bonfire and roasts marshmallows * Haldir! YES! I LOVE HALDIR! Good point! I now swear an oath: HALDIR WILL PLAY AN IMPORTANT ROLE! YESSSSSSSSS!  
  
Princess-yumin: *hands Kleenex * I know how you feel. I almost cried when I read chapter 8 of your fic Colour of Distress! (That's an AMAZING fic, by the way, and let us hope I got the title right.)  
  
The Exterminator Sango: Hah! Good plan! Can I be your little evil assistant? Actually, I'll probably start swaying you into my stronghold in some way or other, and then we can both be minions of.well.. the voices in my head. Good to know there are other evil people who write cliffhangers to torture reviewers!  
  
And my deepest thanks to all my reviewers! I'm sorry if I didn't mention you, but you are all in my.very black.. very, uh, evil.heart (if you still want to call it that).  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	7. Ravagings

A/N: Right, sorry this took a while, but here it is! In all its sadistic splendour! And while I'm here, does anyone out there know how to get italics in here? Everytime I put them in, they just become normal again when I upload. TELL ME!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR; I am not Tolkien, yadda yadda yadda.  
  
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What is life, Haldir thought, when truth becomes hidden, and all that remains is darkness, deceiving in doubt and in lies?  
  
Legolas' quiver had been found a short distance away from his knives. The splendour of Lothlorien was, in this place, tainted with evil. Where orc blood had been spilt, never again would green things grow. Yet, where elven blood stained the ground, beautiful, enchanted things would one day sprout, in mournful remembrance.  
  
"What could have drawn them to these parts?" Haldir wondered aloud. "Even the fiercest of orcs fear these woods. None have ever set foot within the borders."  
  
None answered. All over, elves hunted for some indication as to the prince's whereabouts. Aragorn too searched, perhaps with more skill than the elves, but to no avail. Everywhere, the earth was trampled and grass bent low. Merely a ravaging of an unfathomable, wordless tale.  
  
Silent were the footsteps of his kin, yet Haldir could hear every movement. He knew Legolas too had such magnificent senses of sight and hearing. He should have been able to realize the orcs' presence ere any harm could come to him. He should have been able to run back to the city in the trees, and warn them, and if not, fight the creatures off. Unless there were too many, Legolas should have been able to defeat them.  
  
"It is useless." Haldir was drawn from his thoughts at the gruff voice of the dwarf. "There is no way of knowing what took place." Anger took over Haldir's senses. How would a dwarf know? What would the dwarf care for this elf? He would never know what evil could become of elves taken by the dark forces. Yet what would he care, Haldir thought, with almost a mad laughter, if indeed any harm did come to Legolas? It was his fault Legolas had fled so far. It was his hatred that had driven the prince away.  
  
Haldir whirled upon the dwarf, anger flashing in his eyes. "Do you intend to merely give up on prince Legolas?" The surprise and fear in Gimli's eyes rivalled the annoyance in Haldir's. "You will never know what evil becomes of elves, taken by orcs. This is hardly your place to speak about giving up."  
  
Gimli stared hard back, determination glowing in his dark eyes. "I said naught about giving up, master elf." Gimli understood that this elf was much grieved by Legolas' capture. "But this way, we will find nothing. And no time can be wasted, sitting idly by."  
  
Truth rung in the dwarf's words, and Haldir was taken aback by his will to help. The flame of hatred and anger faded from the elf's eyes. "Aye, that is true. I apologized for my outburst." Gimli nodded friendlily. Peace was restored between the two.  
  
"Haldir!" A shout drifted from the edge of the woods. The elf ran off, eager and quick.  
  
Haelhnin was waiting for his captain. "There are heavy tracks here, leading away from Lorien."  
  
Haldir had thought the orcs would be that of Saruman, yet the tracks led not to Isenguard. "They go west. Isenguard is south of here."  
  
Haelhnin too had thought of this. "Aye. Yet the orcs would not want to take Legolas to Isengaurd." Haldir looked up, confusion written on his face. "They would want him for themselves." Sorrow and regret lingered in the young soldiers words, heavy with realization and reality.  
  
Aragorn came running up, and met the faces of the two elves. His gaze fell upon the trampled earth, leading west. Somehow he realized what had happened, and felt his cheeks become moist with tears.  
  
Haldir turned to the man, but only glimpsed the heel of his foot as he trudged wearily back. The elf shook his head in despair. How hard this must be on Aragorn, he thought. And there he swore to do all he could to rescue Legolas. He would not allow grief to take another.  
  
* * *  
  
I deserve this Legolas shut his eyes tight, trying not to think about what was happening. This is the right thing to do. I did the right thing.for once  
  
Blood continued to soak his flesh, as waves of pain wracked the elf's delicate body. Out of instinct, he struggled against the orcs strong grasp, but there were too many. If he would loosen one's hold, another would grab him. Again and again, the knife dug into the fair elven flesh, and Legolas struggled against his urge to cry out. It proved impossible to remain still. Every instinct in his body told him to run, but for his mind. But even if he did try, there was no way he would be able to get past all of the orcs.  
  
Unexpectedly, Legolas felt a jolting pain in his stomach. Everything slowed down. His vision blurred momentarily. He could feel the shock spreading over his face, and fought to remain emotionless. Slowly he lowered his head, and saw the knife, buried not too deep, yet not so shallow, in his stomach. It twisted in cruel patterns, spelling out twisted, corrupt words in the Black tongue. Desperately, he tried to reassure himself. I deserve this.this is my punishment. This is right But every inch of him begged him to flee, to escape this torment. The slow, deep laughter of the orcs reached his ears, though it seemed leagues away; merely an echo of a whisper. Shame overcame his guilt. How could he let these creature just have him? How could he just allow his worst enemy to do whatever they please to him? Perhaps he did deserve this.but he would not let them have him so easily. He would do one last good thing. The orcs would never hear his scream. They would never delight in his pain or fear. These thoughts echoed in his mind, and he desperately tried to remain conscious. Yet peaceful seemed the dark, and he allowed it to overcome his senses, as he drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber.  
  
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A/N: Right then! I would continue, but I've waited long enough to post this chapter. More to come! Not as much of a cliffhanger this time, I will grant you that. But don't expect this to be the end of the cliffhangers! Review, please! I love you for it! Sorry if I don't answer everyone's review, but I just couldn't think of what to say to it. But you know I am thankful for every one of you!  
  
Saki: What's interesting is that a couple nights ago, I was watching a music video by T. A. T. U, and all of a sudden started wondering about stuff. I'm not sure if this will become slash or not. It might! I'll inform you if it does!  
  
Erhothwen: O no! Not algebra! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! *runs and hides * Thanks for adding this to your faves, by the way!  
  
Imirie: *shows SADISTS UNITE button * I have one too! Don't worry, there will be "fallen and can't get up" scenes to come, maybe even in the next chapter! Actually, that's extremely likely! Mucho stubbornness to come! I love elves! They're the best! Then why do I torture them? SADISTS UNITE!  
  
Fairylady: Not as much of a cliffhanger this time! But THERE WILL BE MORE!  
  
Princess-yumin: What Gimli found was Legolas' dagger. He showed it to Aragorn. Sorry if I didn't quite make that clear, but that's what he found. And yes, you ARE getting a taste of your own medicine now. YESS!!!!!!!!! And don't you DARE stop writing your fic!  
  
Forest Elfin: I know! I feel that exact same way! It's extremely twisted, but that's okay! 


	8. Not Like This

A/N: OMG, I AM SOOOOOOOOOO SORRY YOU HAD TO WAIT SO LONG! Sorry, but somehow everything I write becomes capture, and I suck at thinking of stuff and writing about capture, so it took me a week to think of what to do, then I rewrote it again, then I had homework, and UUUUUUUUUURG! But I promise, I will update quicker ALWAYS in the future! And I know, this chapter starts out kind of not that greatly written, but it gets better. Please review! Oh yeah, and I'm not Tolkien, making no money, I own nothing. Kapeish? Kapeish.  
  
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Sound came first ere sight, though little there was to hear. Only the heavy breath of sleeping creatures. Slowly, Legolas opened his eyes. Darkness enveloped the world, the moon casting unearthly shadows, stars shining merrily down. Something within him quailed, as the elf stared upwards, angry that the stars could be so happy, and he so miserable. His body was numb, and for a moment, he lay still, savouring the nothingness. How he loathed his captors! Even though, he reminded himself, it was best, he wanted nothing more than to flee, and be at peace once more in the protected borders of Lorien.  
  
I did what was right he franticly reminded himself. I should be here. I deserve nothing more. Over and over, the thoughts rewound and repeated themselves in his mind. It kept his mind off the searing pain burning in his midsection. And, as Legolas so desperately reminded himself, they were true.  
  
In time, the orcs about him awoke to the new coming dawn. Legolas remained stalk still, but for his laboured breath. The last thing he wanted was for them to know he was awake. For as long as possible, he wished to remain invisible.  
  
Amidst his wonderings, Legolas heard an argument break out between two of the larger uruk-hai. They spoke in the Black Speech, and he couldn't understand it, but he cringed at the harsh tongue.  
  
"We must take him to Isenguard! Saruman will be grateful for such a prize as a Lothlorien elf! We will be rewarded!" Ashzog growled dangerously.  
  
"Nay, he would be taken, and we wouldn't ever be able to get at him again. Perhaps in time, but let us have our fun with him first."  
  
"Did you not think of what could be possible at Isenguard? Our reward could be that we have rights to all the prisoners! And there is more in the dungeons than we could obtain here. And did you forget that I am the leader of this party?"  
  
Before the other orc could answer, Ashzog had drawn his sword and decapitated its head. A heavy silence fell upon the watching uruk-hai.  
  
Legolas' eyes snapped open as something fell onto his body. Merely inches away from his own face, an uruk-hai's head lay, empty green eyes penetrating the soft grey elven orbs. The other uruks turned, and perceived that Legolas had awoken.  
  
The largest uruk grinned cruelly, and with sword already drawn, approached Legolas. Legolas noted the blade was stained black by orcish blood.  
  
"Stand up, little elf," the words came harsh and gruff from the uruk's foul mouth, now speaking in the common tongue. When Legolas did not move, he lunged forth and lugged the elf to his feet, none too gently. The wounds on his torso and chest suffered his balance, and he doubled over, struggling to stay on his feet. The fact that his hands were bound did not help. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for whatever was to come. The sounds of blades being drawn seemed to surround the elf, and Legolas prayed silently that it would all be over soon. He could here their footsteps approaching him. His breathe quickened in panic.  
  
"My faith in you was well, Ashzog."  
  
The uruk-hai stopped in their advance abruptly. Legolas squinted around, searching for the voice that came dark and rich with power. A man stepped from a cluster of nearby trees, cloaked in grey. Legolas felt his heart nearly stop.  
  
Gandalf.?   
  
Nay, it could not be.could it? Gandalf had died.  
  
Your fault   
  
He could not return.  
  
And never shall   
  
Then the man removed his hood, and Legolas felt all hope within his heart crumple. For there stood Saruman the white, towering above the uruk- hai, and above Legolas. Legolas tried to pick out the orc called Ashzog, and guessed it was the one with the bloodied sword. Ashzog bowed before Saruman, yet the wizard's eyes were not upon his minion.  
  
Saruman turned his head towards Legolas, and their eyes met and locked. A fire kindled within the Istari's dark, menacing pits, yet the icy elven orbs remained defiantly frozen and emotionless. Legolas could feel his body tremble, and he knew he couldn't remain on his feet too much longer. A slow, cruel grin played over Saruman's lips.  
  
"Grab the elf." Several uruks shuffled over to Legolas, and grabbed him rougher than necessary, but he was slightly glad to have the weight taken from his own feet. "He will be much more comfortable in the dungeons of Isenguard." Sadistic pleasure dripped from the Istari's words, and as Legolas was dragged past the wizard, he glared and bore his teeth dangerously, with an intense loathing, that would make even the bravest shrink away.  
  
Perhaps I do deserve death Legolas thought sadly, but not like this . . . anyway but this.   
  
* * *  
  
"The prince of Mirkwood.how ever did my uruk-hai find you?" Saruman's sinister, mocking voice echoed in the dark dungeons of Isenguard. Legolas followed him with his glowering eyes, helpless yet in capture. His arms were chained out each side, pulled up just above his head, the chains rattling as they hung from the ceiling, and Legolas stood in an empty, open area of the dungeons. Saruman walked slowly around his captive elf, taunting the prince to just try to escape.  
  
"I had heard you could fend off twice as many orcs as were present. Whatever happened, little prince?" Legolas' face was bruised, his clothes stained with blood, from the times he had struggled, and served his punishment. Saruman came to stand little more than a hair's breadth from Legolas, each feeling the other's warm breath on their faces. "Have you lost your touch?" Legolas stood idle, as Saruman backhanded the elf across the face, splitting his lip. He could have blocked it, even with his shackles. But that was what Saruman wanted.he wanted Legolas to try to attack him in rage; and then he would be punished.  
  
The grin on Saruman's face grew no wider, yet no slimmer. Never letting his eyes leave Legolas, he backed away. Then he turned, and ascended the long, stone staircase to the upper chambers of Orthanc.  
  
As soon as Legolas knew he was alone, he let his head fall, hopeless, and the splash of a single tear on stone echoed throughout the dungeons.  
  
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Once again, I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for the wait, but here it is! And I will definitely update quicker next time! I'm sorry if you're not mentioned below, it just means I couldn't think of something to say to your review. BUT I LOVE YOU ALL!  
  
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orli92003: I don't know.. it's just more fun to hurt elves than men. Because they have to live with it forever. And I have decided not to make it slash! Good news! And don't feel sorry for Legolas yet.. there's worse to come.  
  
Goblz: I know, I'm evil, but I too am a sadist. SADISTS UNITE! *Shows ribbon that says Union of Sadists *  
  
Imirie: YES! ELVES RULE! I want to be an elf. And live in either Mirkwood or Lothlorien. Screw earth. Let's go to MIDDLE-earth. No slash anymore, don't worry.  
  
Kaimelieamin: I WANT A BUMPER STICKER TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We should start an "Elf Sadist Union", and produce all these Legolas and other elven products! YEAH!  
  
Erhothwen: I like Haldir. Expect to see more of him. And if I were you, try using both a fork AND spoon. Much more threatening.  
  
Merrylyn: Sorry if this chapter was too short for your liking too, and sorry for the long waiting period. BUT I WILL GET BETTER!  
  
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Oh, and one more thing: this is updated before I hear about the war in Iraq and Saddam and stuff, but I can tell you this: I'll bet anything Saddam did not leave, and there will be/is a war. Pray for the soldiers, and pray for all the goddamn country leaders, that they realize that war is not the answer; it just screws us all even more. In time, I will have some kind of prayer or something posted on fictionpress.  
  
Namarie. 


	9. Moving On

A/N: Well, this is strange.it is snowing heavily outside. I don't think earth has quite decided what to do with us yet. But that's beside the point. This chapter is mostly about Aragorn, Haldir, etc. Once again, short, BUT THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LONGER! Teaser: Legolas gets tortured. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!  
  
Apologies to any Boromir lovers out there. I absoloutly DETEST Boromir with all my heart, and I want to strangle him sooooooo much. Throughout this story, expect to see him more of a nuisance, which I believe he is. Expect the same of Faramir. THEY ANNOY ME SO MUCH! Once again, apologies to all you out there who like them.  
  
Disclaimer: Let's see.I want Haldir.want Legolas.want Glorfindel.want the twins.aw, hell, but none are mine..yet.*cackles evilly*  
  
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"You cannot linger here much longer." Haldir stared hard at his friend, desperately trying to do what was right for Middle-earth. "You set out with Legolas to protect the Ringbearer, and take the Ring to Mordor." Aragorn held his head in his hands. "It was not meant as a friendly journey. Had any other been taken, but for the Ringbearer, you would continue on just the same." The elf reached across to Aragorn. "And you have already lingered here too long."  
  
Aragorn looked up at his friend, his blue eyes showing no glimpse of the anguish raging in his heart, and he knew what Haldir had said to be true. He sighed wearily. "Aye, my friend, you are right." Long hours of taking council with the elves of Lothlorien had tired Aragorn greatly, chiefly the talk of Legolas. Still they had come up with no decision what to do about the elf, and it grieved Aragorn greatly to depart without his friend.  
  
Gradually, the elves left the council, flitting off to other places; Galadriel and Celeborn returned to Caras Galadhon. Nearly all the elves had gone, as Aragorn rose miserably to leave.  
  
"Aragorn." The man stopped, and slowly turned to face Haldir, his emotionless mask shattered, his face creased with despair. The elf rose in once graceful movement from his seat, and almost floated over to his friend. He set his hands on each of Aragorn's shoulders in a consoling gesture, and gazed softly into the man's troubled eyes. "Legolas will be fine. He is strong."  
  
Aragorn sighed heavily, and almost in frustration. "That I know well, Haldir. I have always known his strength." He lowered his eyes. "But a darkness has crept over him since Moria. Something within him is broken . . .I fear for him."  
  
"I know what you desire. You wish to stay, and bring Legolas back. You do not wish to leave him. Aragorn," Haldir raised the man's head. "You must continue on with the Fellowship. You must aid Frodo, for that is what is most important now. Listen to me!" Haldir shook his friend as his head began to drop. "You must continue on with Frodo. But I promise you; we will not leave Legolas unattended. I will do everything in my power to bring him back."  
  
Aragorn stared long into the elf's eyes in silence. At last, he spoke, his words plagued with fatigue. "Aye, my friend, you are right. But you have to promise me, you must bring him back."  
  
Haldir returned the intense gaze, and let a slight grin play across his lips. "You have my word."  
  
Exhausted with both sorrow, and with all that had taken place, each turned their separate ways, trying best they could to shove it all to the back of their minds, into a little corner where it could be forgotten for the time being. Yet, as might they tried, naught could erase the memories of their dear friend.  
  
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It was extremely late as Aragorn at last returned to where the rest of the Fellowship lay sleeping. His normally tall and dignified posture had descended to an exhausted slouch. He stopped as the resting figures of his companions came into view. Four hobbits, all sound asleep, so unawares of all that was taking place, and so disillusioned of everything; Gimli, who, even ere the quest had begun, had loathed Legolas and all his kin, and now was doing as much as possible to save the elf; and.. where was Boromir?  
  
"Where have you been?" Almost on cue, Boromir emerged from the shadows, a suspicious light in his eyes, like that of a mother awaiting a child who has returned far later than his curfew. "And where is the elf? I have not seen him for at least a day and a night."  
  
Aragorn sighed. He knew he would have to explain it sooner or later, but not now. anytime but now. "I have been taking council from the elves," he said, his voice groggy and tinted with frustration and annoyance.  
  
"Would it not be fitting if all the Fellowship was included in this council?" Boromir stated, obviously annoyed himself.  
  
Idiot, thought Aragorn, does it really matter? "I assure you, you shall know everything on the morrow. But for now, I am weary, and would like to rest for a while, if you are finished with your inquiries?" Anger rose in the man's voice.  
  
Just as Aragorn began to turn away, Boromir's voice rose once again in question. "I am not finished." He plainly saw Aragorn cringe, but continued none the less. "Where is the elf? I know he spends time with his kin, but he has practically disappeared in the last while." Silence hung over the two for a while, but it was not to last.  
  
Aragorn turned swiftly on Boromir, anger flaring in his eyes. "The reason I have been receiving council, Boromir, son of Gondor," he snarled in almost a mocking tone, "is that Legolas has been taken from Lothlorien by orcs, and that is why you have not seen him lately. Now, if you have naught more to ask, I will go now and sleep."  
  
Without waiting for a reply, Aragorn stomped off, like to a child in a fit over something incredibly insignificant, leaving a stunned Boromir to stand alone in the shadows.  
  
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Countless hours had passed since the black dungeons of Isenguard had held their first sight of the prince of Mirkwood. Legolas' eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but to little avail: the dungeons were pitch black, with not a single torch nor lamp. The orcs had on the most part left him alone, only every now and again stopping to mock the elf. With no cell about him, another prisoner would declare him freer than others. Yet his arms stretched out and upward, the chains giving no slack for relief, and even as he attempted to sleep away the long hours, he dangled from his wrists, now worn almost raw from the shackles, and he could feel his arms stretching from their sockets.  
  
His feet grew weary of his weight, but less so than his arms, so still he stood upon them. Though tall and proud his posture was, his head hung, golden hair caressing his fair face. For so long, he had wept; out of self- pity, out of fear.out of pure hopelessness. Now there were no more tears left to be cried, but the heavy gloom still clung to him.  
  
Ever so desperately, he chanted inwardly to himself I let Gandalf fall. I deserve to be here. Those words he felt to be true.yet again and again, he thought, 'Perhaps, I do deserve punishment.but not like this.'  
  
Now he found himself repeating the pattern, this time unconsciously muttering to himself. I let Gandalf fall. I should be here. I deserve this. This is my punishment. I should be here. This is what I deserve. I did the right thing. I let Gandalf fall. This is my punishment.  
  
Suddenly, light flared from a near corner of the dungeon and Legolas had to squint even in such little of it. All thoughts came to an immediate halt, as he searched for someone who may have lit the torch. But no person stood within the range of the light given from the flame.  
  
"Little princeling. such a prize.yet how ever did you come to be here?" A voice, slow and menacing, drifted from the shadows, becoming silhouette, and finally, physical form: there stood Saruman the white, a cruel smile playing on his lips.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Legolas growled, his sparkling eyes now set ablaze in loathing.  
  
As if he hadn't even heard Legolas speak, Saruman continued on, slowly circling the elf. His face was calm and still, with only the torch reflecting in his dark eyes, and the light of a grin on his lips. "But I don't need you to tell me that, do I? Because I know what it is that haunts you, little elf." He came to a stop in front of Legolas, again so close to his face. Yet even under the power influenced by those eyes, Legolas stared straight back, determined not to show weakness.  
  
Saruman smiled.  
  
"You killed Gandalf."  
  
An explosion of alarm and of fear suddenly erupted in his mind. He did his best to remain unfazed outwardly, though Saruman's grin grew wider still, sensing the panic in his prisoner's mind.  
  
"And you know you did. Denial is no use here, little elf." Saruman stepped back, and resumed his previous position of circling Legolas. "You watched the Balrog fall from Khazad-dum. You watched as its whip coiled about Mithrandir's ankle, tugging him down to the great crevice in the stone." Now he used Gandalf's elven name, trying to provoke Legolas.  
  
He paused, as if unsure of what came next, though Legolas knew well it was all an act.  
  
"And there you stood.emotionless, stalk still.as Mithrandir lost his hold.and fell.because you could not find what it took to save him."  
  
And there, Legolas' breath almost stopped. His heart quickened in its pace, his blood pulsing anxiously through his veins. That incredible fire in his eyes kindled, and all his features seemed to glow with new light.  
  
He is lying.  
  
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A/N: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! JOY! JOY UPON BURGERS WITH FRIES! Haha, what did Legolas realize? Does he really and truly believe the right thing now? MWAHA! Oo, I love it! I love all of you for reviewing. I'm in a bit of a rush today, so I can't write to all of you, BUT I LOVE YOU ALL!  
  
Andravix: Namarie means "farewell" in elvish. And thanks, I need all the luck I can get.  
  
Kaimelieamin: Darnit, your names hard to spell. But that's beside the point. I'm keeping the suspense on..no torture yet! But just wait till you see what I have planned for the next chapter..MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
  
Kate: I know. Sadistic is my trademark. The rest is coming!  
  
Erhothwen: GO HALDIR! Sorry, I love him too.  
  
Merrylyn: You know, just wishing Gandalf will come back, I kind of keep thinking of new ideas..you gave me a new one. I dunno if I'll use it. And I promise, cringes galore in the next chapter.  
  
Imire: I have a theory of heaven: it's wherever you would be happiest. Therefore, I would go to Middle-earth and be an elf and live with my little blonde friends. Hm.the first person who dies, if that's true, come back and ring my neck. 


	10. Why Me

Saruman's composure cracked, but he quickly regained his sureness. Legolas suddenly was restored of his elven glow, his features lit up once again. Flame kindled to a roaring, hating fire in his bright eyes, perilous almost to behold.  
  
"What do you think you believe in, little elf," Saruman mocked, seeing how Legolas had redeemed himself. "That you are innocent? That none of this was your fault?" His voice became dangerously soft, always calm and relaxed. "Why, you are almost doing my work for me."  
  
"You are wrong," Legolas snarled menacingly.  
  
"Oh? And when did you decide this?" Saruman paused shortly. "Just now, elfling, just now. You know the truth."  
  
Legolas could feel the magic intertwined in the wizard's words, striving to convince him, trying to make him believe. If he uses such sorcery to merely persuade me of murder, then would it not be false? If it were true, he would need no such magic.   
  
"Gandalf's fall was of your doing. And that, my elf, I commend you for."  
  
Why does he call me his elf? I do not belong to him  
  
"Your skill would be at much better use with me, little elfling."  
  
"Lies."  
  
Saruman laughed. "Oh! Is that what you believe them to be?"  
  
"I know them to be lies. Rid your words of your magic! If you speak the truth, then what is enchantment needed for?" Legolas inwardly congratulated himself, believing he had finally overcome the wizard.  
  
Saruman let a small grin play across his lips. "Perhaps, little elf," he spoke slowly, "you have seen through the darkness.but what I have said still stands. Your skill would be much more useful in the service of Saruman the White." He had lost the battle.but a war was still to be fought.  
  
Legolas spat at the wizard's feet. "Nay. Never."  
  
The smile on Saruman's lips widened. "We shall see.in time, little elf, we shall see." Suddenly his attention was elsewhere, and he was not speaking to Legolas. "I am done here. He is yours." Locking eyes one last time with his prisoner, Saruman laughed quietly, and took leave of the dungeons.  
  
Legolas shifted his weight, now relieved that the wizard had gone. A sense of accomplishment washed over him.it felt like a great burden had been lifted from his heart. He had done nothing to kill Mithrandir. Ai, how foolish he had been, this past while!  
  
Suddenly, he was overcome with guilt. How he had made his friends suffer! Aragorn already had so much on his shoulders already; the last thing he needed was Legolas' problems in addition. Such a self-pitying wreck he had been. Shame washed over the elf. If my father had seen me, he thought, Elbereth! he would dispise me for it.  
  
But he shoved this all into a back corner of his mind. Now he had other problems.  
  
Saruman had openly stated that he wanted Legolas to fight for him. Perhaps he had hoped, that in his previous broken state, he would have complied. He wondered for a moment, what it would be like to battle against all he had been fighting for his whole life.what it would be like to emotionlessly murder his kin and friends. An invisible shudder passed through him. He would never become that brutal monster. No matter how severely pressured, he would not give in.  
  
But that could not have been all Saruman wanted. He would not keep an elf here, merely to attempt to sway him. Not just one. He wanted something else.there was another purpose for his imprisonment. A natural curiosity drew the elf to pondering what use the wizard could have for him, but deep inside, he never really wanted to know.  
  
Slowly, Legolas became aware of a light clinking in the darkness, like that of two things of metal colliding lightly with each other. Also, there were footsteps.heavy footsteps upon the stone floor, and heavy breathing, the occasional harsh word.  
  
No, no, not orcs  
  
He moaned inwardly, recognizing without explanation the clatter of chains and armoured feet. Terror seized him, for he knew little of what orcs would do.what extent their hatred could drive them. But he had already had a taste; he was painfully aware of the healing skin over the arrow wound in his arm being stretched apart, and the stab wound in his stomach as well. What evil would become of him here, if already such wounds had befallen him in merely a days time?  
  
The scuffling footsteps were gradually growing louder. What was taking them so long? Were the dungeons really that extensive? He shuddered, picturing isles and isles of barred chambers, delving deep into the earth.broken, hopeless, lost creatures, slumped against walls, clinging to iron bars, dangling from chains. What if they really were that deep? Or perhaps, it was merely his mind playing tricks on him; for that was the way of thought through fear and anxiety.  
  
Finally, Legolas could begin to make out silhouettes in the torchlight. Relief claimed half his mind: the suspense and waiting had been killing him. Yet still more prominent was that undeniable terror and knowledge; knowing what awaited him, and not being able to do a thing about it.  
  
"Looksee here, an elf.all alone." the raspy voice drifted on harsh breathe from the shadows. Laughter followed of several others. Their voices! Legolas pondered. It sounds as if their throats have been torn! Were these creatures born so, born so ugly and so cruel from the beginning?  
  
Legolas counted the orcs coming into the firelight.1, 2, 3, 4.5 of them. He willed his eyes away from their hands; from their weapons, and his eyes were drawn to their distorted faces. Pity almost wrapped its away about his thoughts.  
  
"Wonder what it'll take for his screams."  
  
All traces of pity vanished.  
  
The accent of the Black tongue was thick in their words, the common speech still abundant with gruff, harsh sounds. Yellow teeth bore in sinister grins; the five orcs came in disorder before him.  
  
"What say Goralûk strike first?" one, particularly hunched, spoke. Grudgingly, the others seemed to comply.  
  
The one called Goralûk stepped forward, grinning uncontrollably with his rotten fangs. "Only too grateful to oblige, Bôrmazh." Goralûk must be their leader, thought Legolas. Bôrmazh likely a grovelling minion.  
  
Goralûk made his way behind the shackled elf. Legolas could hear his unravelling the thick tether. "Only too long it has been since last I tasted elven blood."  
  
CRACK!  
  
Callous laughter resounded with sick mirth in the dungeons. Legolas felt, as if in slow motion, the whip rip through his tunic, and drag ruthlessly across his flesh. It had come so fast; he only just barely restrained himself from crying out. And now the other four joined their ringleader, each with their own weapon. He could feel, as lash upon lash was blown across his fair skin, some of the welts give way under the pressure to blood. The first to break was his shoulder, where many a stray thrashings had landed. Then the beating on that side subsided for a moment, but a worse shame came to follow.  
  
Goralûk stepped forward, the hilarity on his face sickly glowing. "Little, little droplets.dark, dark crimson." He came close to Legolas' strained shoulders. His mouth opened, and he licked away the trickle of blood. "Such tasty flavour."  
  
He starred up menacingly with his bright green eyes into Legolas' blue- grey orbs. Legolas stared back, struck with horror at what the orc had just done. He felt contaminated; dirty. But he could do nothing, for Goralûk stepped away, brandished his tether, and flung it across the elf's shoulder blades.  
  
When will they stop?  
  
CRACK. Laughter.  
  
Will they stop at all?  
  
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.  
  
If this is merely one day.  
  
CRACK. CRACK. Laughter.  
  
what will eternity be like.?  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas' mind began to clear. He opened his eyes just a slit, hoping not to be noticed. At first he thought he had gone blind, but the memory of the previous darkness of the dungeons told him otherwise.  
  
Searing pains wracked his delicate frame. How long had he been unconscious? Where the orcs even still there? Slowly, he dared to open his eyes wider, in hopes that he could see more, but to no such avail. Though he could not see, he was numbly aware of a distant sound. His mind was still foggy and he couldn't make it out clearly.  
  
However, the orcs were wide awake.their eyes lumininous in the dark.with perfect vision.  
  
Footsteps. "The elf's awake."  
  
Scuffle scuffle scuffle.  
  
"Back off, Thraksnik. I gets him first." Goralûk shoved the one called Thraksnik out of his way. He held his hands behind his back, and a new, unknowing fear took Legolas. What did he hold? What possible evil device could he be clutching?  
  
"Finally awake, eh, elf?" He stared up into Legolas' hard eyes that portrayed naught of his inner turmoil. Then, almost talking to himself, he said: "He's stronger than some."  
  
Why is he saying this? It is nearly encouragement  
  
".he will last longer."  
  
Why me  
  
Goralûk shifted his hands. Jangle, jangle.  
  
"There was use of the lash elsewhere."  
  
Jingle, jingle.  
  
"I had to find a substitute." He drew the item from secrecy.  
  
A chain.  
  
At first, the other orcs flogged the feircly, merely leather tethers. Merely laughter. Merely all that had come once before.  
  
CLASH.  
  
Legolas' body jolted with the blow. He retained his cry with great effort.  
  
CLASH.  
  
Jolt.  
  
The chain hit his body again and again. It struck him hard across his torso; hard across his ribs; hard across his chest.  
  
Ai, Elbereth.  
  
CLASH.  
  
why me.  
  
* * *  
  
TBC  
  
A/N: HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA! Hehe, that was fun to write. I was gonna add in another thing, but it's a bit of a more complicated thing. I'm gonna save it for later. But again, tell me if my torture is too bland, to blech, too whatever, or if it's okay. Review!  
  
Merrylyn: *also hugs plushies * We should start our own production agency! Produce (male) elf plushies! Hah! That'd be the coolest! And thanks, I was kind of apprehensive to writing Aragorn, he has lost of different sides to him.  
  
Torture_the_elf: Kill him, you say? *thinks * I actually have a long plot line for this story. It'll go a long time. But, hey, you can always hope. You never know what may happen!  
  
Imirie: *dreaming * Rain seems to make lots of people hotter, doesn't it seem that way?  
  
Little_lost_one: Yes, I did write Legolas' song in chapter 5.  
  
Goblz: Yeah, I think review history was a good addition. You can find stories when you have no room left in your favourites.  
  
Kaimelieamin: Still trying to learn to type ur name fast and still spell it right.But I should go buy shin pads, maybe.  
  
Kate: Haldir rules, doesn't he? I almost screamed when he *sniff * died. I know Peter Jackson's a genius, but I'm gonna send death threats. Especially if he leaves out Elladen and Elrohir in ROTK. Rrrrrrrrrrrr. And yes, Orophin is Haldir's brother, right? Well, anyways, I think he is, as far as I know, and he looks like a she-male in the movie. Celeborn has a cool accent though. But that's all.  
  
Princess-yumin: I thank you very much for the review! I enjoy thorough reviews as much as I like writing them! And actually, I hadn't though of your philosophy of Saruman's falsety. I just decided he could feel the magic in the wizard's tongue. Good idea, though. I believe Legolas is really strong inside. But, in the movie, I think they made a mistake. In the books, he's really hyper and stuff. He's always singing and running around. It would SO INCREDIBLY COOL if they made him sing in ROTK! OMG! *dies *  
  
* * *  
  
Once again, thanks for reviewing! And, in the next chapter: an actual torture device that was used in the middle ages. Very evil. Pain. Lots of pain. (think a Knight's Tale here) 


	11. We Will Meet Again

A/N: Oh, crap I forgot a disclaimer last time! Here it is, don't sue!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my own delusional mind. And that counts for the last chapter too!  
  
Guess what? I bought a really big Legolas poster, with this big close up, and it's hanging over my bed. And they sold Tolkien's house for $1.6 million, or something like that, unless I've forgotten. Man, I need more money . . . wouldn't it be cool to own his house?  
  
Here's chapter 11! It's a bit longer than the others. Remember, I love reviews so much, so be kind and leave one!  
  
Happy Easter to all!  
  
* * *  
  
Dawn rose happily in the east; gold filtered in through the canopy of gently wavering leaves, fresh morning dew glittered on the green, green grass. Birds twittered their blessings as the sun rose over the horizon, ruffling their feathers in delight. The air was new and fresh, with that morning chill to it, even through the warm sunlight.  
  
Amidst the happy chirping, there rang a sound not of the forest. For beneath the mingling branches of the great malorn trees trod the elves of Lothlorien, though soundless and trackless were their steps. And they sang; sang mournful, yet always hopeful, melodious harmonies with each other, and to them, they could hear the trees praying with them. They prayed for good travels, for good luck, and for a certain prince who for the time being was beyond their reach.  
  
Haldir watched as the three elven boats were guided through the deep waters of the River Anduin. His voice intertwined with the others, perhaps even stronger than it should have been, but he sang unconsciously; he mind was on other things.  
  
The Fellowship was less now. As Celeborn had spoken, there were nine.and now there were seven. It was a grievous loss for the Fellowship; of course, Mithrandir had been their leader and guide, and now he had fallen. And Legolas . . .he thought of the prince's accuracy with the bow, and his great skill in battle. It had been a loss that all seemed to underestimate; for his heart was true, and he knew that he would have followed Frodo into the very depths of Mount Doom.  
  
He could see Galadriel waving now, her pale lips gracing all with a gentle smile. He wondered what she was thinking. Were the same things running through her mind? How could she appear so perfect and untroubled, even in these times of rising darkness and turmoil?  
  
The last notes of the song died away. It had been elvish, and he knew that the Fellowship had not understood them. But Aragorn had. He had heard their wishes, their prayers . . .and Haldir was almost sure he had seen him try to join the song. But in the common tongue, it held just as much meaning.  
  
Where winds blow high  
  
And ocean crashes  
  
Where rain pours down  
  
And thunder clashes  
  
To the end of this world  
  
I will follow your trail  
  
Till the last tree blossoms  
  
And last ships sail  
  
Here and there  
  
Your footsteps scatter  
  
But where they lead  
  
It does not matter  
  
For I will find you  
  
No matter how far  
  
No matter how distant  
  
Your footsteps are  
  
May the road be good  
  
The battles be won  
  
We will meet again  
  
Ere this life is done  
  
The boats had soon rowed out of sight. For a while, the elves stood silent, unsure of what to do. But gradually they left, retreating to their families and their homes. Haldir too turned away. There was much to ponder ere dusk would come.  
  
"Haldir." The voice of Galadriel came from behind him, and he turned in surprise. "Come with me." And that was all she said, as she moved gracefully in front of him, but he followed.  
  
They passed by many places, through many sites a traveler would have stopped to look upon in wonder; but Haldir felt desperation about him, and stepped swiftly after the Lady.  
  
It was not long, for quick and graceful they had traveled, ere they reached Galadriel's glade. She poured water into her mirror. "Come," she spoke. "Look, tell me what you see."  
  
Haldir peered into the mirror. It was a moment before colour and images began to fade into the water.  
  
There were elves, and not of Lothlorien. They traveled light, but armed. They passed through dense forest, and they seemed nervous, though they showed it not readily.  
  
"They are emissaries, of Mirkwood. Thranduil is with them," Haldir said.  
  
Galadriel nodded. Her voice was grave. "They have been summoned. And not here, not by us."  
  
Haldir peered up from the mirror. Galadriel's voice was grave, and her face held no more that kind smile. "Why are they coming?" He could guess well enough, but it was not an answer he wanted to hear.  
  
"You know, Haldir. Saruman has called them, but they know not why, and they trust not his words. But I believe that the most likely reason is on account of Legolas."  
  
"What could Saruman want of them?" Haldir asked angrily, more to himself, yet still desiring an answer.  
  
Galadriel shook her head sadly. "I do not know, Haldir. But you must meet with them ere they reach Isenguard. Go out with several of your soldiers. Escort them here."  
  
Haldir nodded. Galadriel turned away, with nothing more need to be said. Haldir took his leave to gather his soldiers. He hummed softly to himself.  
  
We will meet again  
  
Ere this life is done.  
  
* * *  
  
He wished dearly there were some other noise, so he didn't have to listen to his own harsh, laboured breathing. By now, his strained shoulders had become dislocated, but there was no relent as the chains tugged harder, his slim body slumped, the will in his legs gone. He knew doubtlessly the chain had cracked several of his ribs, and he found he couldn't breathe properly, no matter how he tried to calm his breath.  
  
Legolas shut his eyes.  
  
He could hardly restrain himself from shouting when lash after lash and blow upon blow had crashed into his body. His tunic was torn to shreds, torn from him; but it didn't matter; it was useless now: stained with blood and sweat and darkness.  
  
They had kept him awake for so long, unable to fall to merciful unconsciousness. But his memory was foggy; he couldn't remember how long they had beaten him, nor if anything else had taken place. Perhaps it was better that way.  
  
Stomp, stomp, stomp.  
  
They're coming again  
  
There was still that lingering sound in the background, but he still could not make it out clear enough. Maybe it was just his ears ringing.  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
It came again, but ear-splitting, blood curdling, terrified.louder.  
  
A scream.  
  
There's another . . .  
  
"My dear elfling . . ." Legolas cringed at that voice, and whimpered inwardly. His thoughts were cut off. "What have they done to you?" False sympathy . . .all false. Legolas didn't have the strength to deal with this right now.  
  
Saruman came, sneering, before Legolas. He looked him up and down, scanning the severely bruised and bloody body. He gazed over the elf's dislocated shoulders.  
  
"Are you tired of these chains yet?"  
  
Legolas did not answer. He did not trust himself to speak.  
  
"You seem troubled, little prince . . ." Saruman paced in front of his prisoner. "Tell me, what ails you?"  
  
As if he does not know  
  
Still Legolas held his tongue, but realized he was shaking. Perhaps from anger, or from his physical weakness. His breath too had grown shorter, which was brutally unneeded.  
  
"Or did they steal your tongue as well?"  
  
Would they . . .?   
  
"Perhaps the elf needs some encouragement to speak." Saruman slowly approached Legolas, his deep eyes glittering in the faint torchlight. "Now, talk to me, little elf . . ." Saruman jabbed his finger into one of Legolas' dark bruises, where one of his ribs was cracked. A muffled sound escaped the elf's tightly clamped lips. He struggled, as the wizard pushed with more strength, his long fingernail driving into the skin.  
  
Saruman relented, and the relief on Legolas' face could not be masked. The wizard tilted his head to the side, like a raven, trying to understand. He walked behind Legolas.  
  
"Still silent, princeling?" Rich malice dripped from every word the wizard spoke, sending a shudder down Legolas' spine. "Why don't you talk?" He jabbed Legolas again, but this time, he dug his finger into one of the cuts across his back. His eyes widened, and he bit his lip, drawing blood, trying to refrain from crying out as the wizard shoved his finger deeper and deeper into his flesh. But he failed, and a short cry flew from his mouth.  
  
Saruman relented.  
  
He was satisfied.  
  
Legolas struggled against the pain, even as Saruman withdrew his bloodied finger. He could not prevent it. The light clinking of metal above him made Legolas turn his distressed face upwards.  
  
He fell forward . . .to the ground.  
  
The chains were gone.  
  
What . . .  
  
Saruman grabbed Legolas roughly by the wrist, dragging him upwards. His breath came in short, harsh quantities as his dislocated shoulders strained. As soon as Legolas was on his feet, he felt two grimy hands pull his own hands behind his back.  
  
They're back  
  
Rope bound his wrists together, none too gently. He was tugged to a suspended rope, dangling, seemingly from mid-air. The orcs tied the hanging rope to Legolas' bound hands. He looked hatefully at Saruman, though beneath the flame in those shining orbs was a question.  
  
What are you doing  
  
The orcs scurried away excitedly, invisible in the darkness, yet still uncomfortably close.  
  
Why am I here  
  
Legolas started in surprise as his feet lifted from the ground. His arms twisted behind his back, and he tossed back his head, trying to stop himself from shouting as his shoulders suffered. Finally, he looked down again, and it struck him how high the ceiling of the dungeons rose. He could just make out the glowing white form of Saruman below.  
  
All sound ceased, and Legolas almost held his breath, shutting his eyes in fear.  
  
He fell.  
  
* * *  
  
MWAHA! You'll see what happens in the NEXT chapter. And I did write the song they're singing. I keep getting new ideas. Please be kind and review! I love reviews more than anything else! Except the reviewERs! Thank you Legolasluver!  
  
merrylyn: Thank you, I intend on making Haldir a really important character.  
  
Torture-the-elf: Ach, kill him. Well, what fun is it if I kill him? Then I can't write! Besides, he's already died, remember?  
  
Erhothwen: HAH! I figured it out! Now I remember! I was thinking of Gollum and if he had any friends. I had forgotten, but you reminded me! SMEAGOL AND E.T.!!!!!!!! It works out perfectly!  
  
Kate: I know how you feel, trust me.  
  
Princess-yumin: O.o This may sound strange, but that is such a huge compliment, that you couldn't read it! OMG, thank you so much! I've never been that great at torture scenes and such, but thank you! And, yes, I should make him throw a big loogie in Saruman's face. That'd be cool. And that's a really cool interpretation of "light clinking in the darkness". I never thought of it that way, but it works. Cool thoughts! And yes, the blindfolding would have been so cool. And, I'm sorry for making you hysterical. Maybe I'll just harden you up, eh?  
  
Forest Elfin: Oh, trust me, SO not afraid to push the limits. I have a really, really sweet idea for one of the more severe torture scenes. Mwahahahahaha.  
  
Imire: Don't worry, rain is coming, rain is coming. He'll be hot, miserable, and hopeless at the same time. You'll have to wait for that, though.  
  
* * *  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	12. New Faces

Disclaimer: I own nothing here, except the she-elf, whom you will not know the name of till next time. Mwaha.  
  
Happy Easter all! Mm, I wonder if there's a chocolate God. That'd be cool. I should make a shrine.  
  
Please leave a review, tell me what you think, no matter what: good or bad, whatever! I don't mind flames, and love critiques!  
  
Note: I haven't read this over, so tell me if there's parts that don't make sense and such.  
  
* * *  
  
He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The ground rushed up to greet him, the figure of Saruman getting larger, larger, larger . . .  
  
He tried to regain self-control, bracing himself for the landing, but he fell too fast.  
  
His feet hit the ground hard, shockwaves moving up his legs, up his spine, and pain erupted in his whole body. He stumbled forward, barely able to keep himself standing. It was merely his natural grace that saved him.  
  
But it would not last.  
  
Trying to catch his breath, he panted, staring at the ground. The orcs chuckled quietly, and he knew without looking that Saruman bore that sinister grin.  
  
The rope tugged at his wrists again, and he found himself being dragged upwards. The orcs were tugging the rope that hung over a high rafter.  
  
What if the rope snaps . . .?  
  
Don't think of that now.  
  
Once again he was dangling from the high ceiling, the ground concealed in darkness. He prayed they couldn't see him; see his face contorted with fear and pain.  
  
"No doubt you have lost track of time by now, my little elf." Saruman's voice echoed in the dungeons, slow and relaxed, oozing with malice. "But I will tell you now: you have been here two nights. Two nights without sun, without wind, without trees, without grass, without stars . . ."  
  
DON'T REMIND ME!  
  
"Do you miss them, little elf? Do you miss the stars?" The wizard paused, as if waiting for an answer. "Because they don't miss you." Legolas strained his eyes, and saw the ominous delight in Saruman's face. "Elbereth has forsaken you, little elf. She knows what you are." He came to stand almost directly below Legolas' feet. "A pathetic, cowardly, insignificant, cold hearted, blood-thirsty killer."  
  
Legolas shut his eyes, and tried to ignore the wizard. He had lost much strength; his heart could not block out his words, and he could not repel the twisted magic intertwining every syllable.  
  
"How many orcs have you killed in your lifetime? And I know you will not answer me, partially because you don't want to, and partially because you don't know." He was right. "You have murdered too many lives to count."  
  
NO!  
  
"Have you ever wondered about the history of orcs? Have you always thought they were merely some creature Morgoth concocted out of thin air?"  
  
The rope lost its tension.  
  
Legolas plummeted towards the waiting stone, and this time, his grace could not save him.  
  
His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell hard on the ground. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and his ears rang. But Saruman was able to drown the ringing out.  
  
"No, little elfling." Legolas could feel his presence nearby, but once again, he did not look. "They were once happy creatures, living untroubled lives."  
  
Grabbing hold of Legolas' golden hair, he yanked his head upwards, so he looked straight into Legolas' frightened eyes.  
  
"They were elves once."  
  
NO.  
  
"You are lying." Legolas' eyes narrowed. There was no way these filthy, worthless creatures could once have been elves. He was surprised by how raspy his own voice was, and he realized how long it had been since he had last had food or drink. His throat was parched, and his stomach ached with hunger. He hadn't noticed it before.  
  
"Nay, little elf. These pathetic worthless things were once elves, just like you . . . just like you deserve to be."  
  
The rope started to tug again.  
  
"All those lives . . .those uncountable, thoughtlessly spent lives, were elves . . . You are a murderer, little prince . . . a murderer of thousands of your own kin."  
  
Don't listen. He is lying.  
  
By now Legolas was hanging from the lofty ceiling, his eyes shut tight, as if it would help him not to hear.  
  
"Don't deny it, little elf . . .you know as well as I do what you are."  
  
You do not know who I am.   
  
"Inside you are an orc . . .a blood-thirsty, deceitful, foul orc." Saruman smiled. "It is merely the outside we have to change."  
  
Suddenly, a racket arose far off, and if there were stairs, it sounded as if it were coming from them. All heads turned rapidly in surprise to the origin of the sound. Light began to filter down what appeared to be a staircase. Legolas could hear the orcs shouting and calling to each other in the Black Speech.  
  
They sound so thirsty . . .  
  
"What's going on up there?" Saruman shouted angrily, his deep, commanding voice resounding in the stone chambers.  
  
An orc scampered down the steps, and came to stand before Saruman. He glanced briefly upwards at Legolas, and, with a slight glimmer of amusement in his great, yellow eyes, he spoke to Saruman. "We have a prisoner, my lord."  
  
All traces of anger seemed to leave Saruman's face. It smoothed into a relaxed, pleased look. He arched one eyebrow. "A prisoner?" He glanced back at Legolas. "Tell me what kind of prisoner?"  
  
"An elf, my lord."  
  
Saruman looked surprised. "And that is the cause of this racket? Can you not contain one elf?" He didn't let the orc answer. "Bring him to me!"  
  
"Err, it's a she-elf, my lord."  
  
Saruman thought, and the grin on his face seemed to grow. "Very well, bring her to me."  
  
The orc scurried off, and Saruman turned around to face the weary elf, dangling helplessly from the high, high ceiling. "You have an audience now, princeling."  
  
Just as the scuffling group of orcs entered, tugging along with them an elf, Legolas felt the tension on the rope begin to loosen.  
  
"Elf, look here," Saruman commanded.  
  
The struggling elf raised his eyes angrily, but anger became horror as she saw the golden haired elf falling from the lofty ceiling, and collapsing with a sickening thud on the stone ground, soundless.  
  
Legolas felt so useless . . .so weak. He could barely move. He felt ashamed to be before this elf, who seemed so much stronger than he.  
  
"What are you doing to him," she growled dangerously. But Saruman seemed merely amused by her struggling. He approached the elf, and the orcs held her still. She complied, but unhappily.  
  
"It is indeed a treat to have two elves in my dungeons," he said. He tilted the she-elf's chin upwards, inspecting her. "Especially two so fair."  
  
He turned his attention to the orcs. "Let her have the chains. Our dear prince would die with one more day of those . . .and we wouldn't want that, would we?" The orcs laughed sadistically, and brought the she-elf to the bloodstained chains that had suspended Legolas' arms for the past two days. There they shackled her and left her.  
  
A weary moan drifted from Legolas' lips, and he coughed blood onto the cold floor. His vision was blurry, and his eyelids were drooping. No longer could his heart withstand all that was being done to him.  
  
Saruman jerked Legolas to his feet, pulling him up by his long golden hair. The elf staggered, regaining his balance, and stared long and hatefully at the wizard.  
  
"You are lying to me." Legolas' voice was hushed and hoarse, but still it held that threatening note.  
  
Saruman threw his fist into Legolas' stomach, and Legolas crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe. His frail body trembled. "Learn to accept the truth little elfling." He but his boot on Legolas' hand. "You know what you are." All his weight dropped onto his foot, and Legolas struggled, and let out a long and icy scream, as the bones in his hand snapped, slowly, one by one.  
  
Black clouds shrouded his vision. Suddenly, Saruman's face was beside Legolas. "You will have visitors soon, little elf. Learn to accept the truth." Saruman got up.  
  
Legolas swayed back and forth, his fair face twisted with pain. The sounds around him became slurred, his vision merely silhouettes, until at last, darkness took pity on him.  
  
Saruman indicated to a near-by orc. "Put him in that cell." He pointed to a barred chamber, behind the she-elf." The orc threw Legolas over his shoulder, and tossed his light frame inside the cell, heedless of his many injuries. He shut the door and locked it.  
  
The wizard circled the she-elf. "Tell me, what is it they call you?" he asked, his voice almost soothing, yet still sodden with evil.  
  
The she-elf spit into Saruman's eye. "Wouldn't you like to know."  
  
Saruman slowly wiped away the spit, and stared long and hard at his new captive.  
  
"Oh, I promise you . . .one day you'll tell me."  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir laid back against a boulder, staring up at the stars, twinkling merrily in the deep, dark sky. He wondered how far away the emissaries from Mirkwood were. He had chosen a spot to wait, out of sight of Isengard, where he was sure he would intercept them.  
  
Would they have received news yet of Legolas? He was torn between hope that they had and a wish they hadn't. He didn't want to be the one to explain it to them.  
  
Hold on a little longer, Legolas. We'll find you.  
  
"Haldir!" Haldir was roused from his thoughts at the shout from one of his soldiers. "They are coming!"  
  
* * *  
  
Yay, another chapter done! I'll have to go have a talk with Legolas to see what to do next. *Legolas wimpers * Oh, don't be such a baby. I put my big poster of Legolas right above my bed. There's a mirror across from my bed, so I can always see him. And no matter where I stand, he ALWAYS looks like he's looking at me. It's like, the best thing ever. Thank you to Maniac, devilburns, Lirenel. Sorry, I couldn't find anything to say to your reviews, but thank you very, very much!  
  
Merrylyn: *sighs * I so think they should make Legolas sing in ROTK. Heck, they should make all the elves sing. And get Elladen and Elrohir in there somewhere.  
  
Forest Elfin: Since Legolas is too weak to whip his ass, let's get the she- elf to do it!  
  
Erhothwen: Legolas angst: no guilt required. Mwahahahahahahahaha. I wonder: if Orlando Bloom ever happens to read some of the Legolas angst stories on this site, I wonder what he'd do . . .  
  
Kate: I'm sorry it takes me so long to post. But I have a bunch of stuff to do. But this week is Easter break, so if I can find the time, I will write as much as possible! Note: I also have a sister to share the computer with, and we're both computer hogs, so it's hard to get a good slot of time. I'll try and post faster!  
  
Kaimelieamin: Hm, I'll take my sister's soccer pads and stuff. Those might help.  
  
Torture-the-elf: Actually, Galadriel does know that Legolas is at Isengard. That's why she asked Haldir to intercept the party from Mirkwood before they got there. Sorry if I confused you at all.  
  
Princess-yumin: Nice little fantasy. If only we could all have Legolas' of our own, eh?  
  
Once again, I love reviews, so please be kind and leave one! I hope to get the next chapter up quickly!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	13. Growing Darkness

Disclaimer: All I own is the she-elf, and you will discover her name here! I got it from the Barrow-Downs, and I know it's just random, but I thought it was cute. So there you go. Other than that, I own nothing and am, sadly, making no money, which would be really cool if I was. So don't sue, because I won't be able to pay you.  
  
A/N: I'm back! Sorry if I took a while to update for some, but I do have a life to live, though I do complain about having no life, and also I have to come up with what to write, so, please, don't get at me for updating late, unless it takes me like over a week or something. Also, this chapter, some of you may not particularly like the first little bit. But just get past it, and be happy little sadists with me again.  
  
* * *  
  
Where there once was light, darkness had invaded, and where darkness had been, the shadow had grown darker and longer. Legolas felt his bruised cheek touching the cold stone floor, his golden hair splayed out around his head. He felt his entire body ache, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down, and remain there, and never get up. But then, he didn't want to lie in his current position, on his bare stomach, making breathing difficult, which was something he could not tolerate now.  
  
He put out his hand to raise himself from the floor, but it gave out beneath him and he cried out slightly at the unexpected jolt of pain. For a moment he puzzled over how his hand had become broken, and it all came screaming back to him.  
  
Saruman, rising, rising, falling, falling, ai, Elbereth, falling, rising again, so high, then falling, falling too fast, can't stand, don't want to, there's another . . .  
  
No, forget it all, don't try to remember, just forget it . . .  
  
But the she-elf . . .  
  
With difficulty, Legolas dragged himself to sit against the wall. The throbbing where his ribs had cracked seemed to have grown. He looked regretfully down at his shoulders, seeing both of them had become dislocated. It has to be done, he told himself, as much as he didn't want to do what he was about to do.  
  
He lugged himself painfully to his feet, leaning heavily against the jagged wall. His shoulders had come forward because of the rope suspending his arms up and behind his head. He wedged his left hand unhappily on the ground, pressing it against the wall. Shutting his eyes tight, he took a deep breath.  
  
Just get it over with.  
  
With his right hand, he shoved hard on his left shoulder until it fell into place with a loud resounding pop. But the sound was drowned out by a shrill, icy cry, that Legolas realized, came from his own lips. His shoulder burned fiercely, and Legolas staggered, desperately clinging to the wall, trying to stop from falling to the ground. Black spots danced in his vision, taunting him.  
  
Once again, now . . .  
  
Legolas groaned. It had hurt more than he had expected. But it had to be done.  
  
He placed his right hand now on the ground, and readied his left on the shoulder joint. A soft whimper of dread escaped his tightly clamped mouth, and before he could think otherwise, he quickly thrust his right shoulder back. However, he could not restrain himself from crying out long and terribly. Finally, he slumped to the ground, exhausted.  
  
Why do you put yourself through more pain when there is already too much to bear?   
  
It had to be done.   
  
How stupid can you be?   
  
What, so now his own thoughts were mocking him? Legolas smiled a bit. I must be going crazy, he thought. He laughed.  
  
Oh, to laugh again!  
  
To laugh under the stars, to sing to the trees, to run under the sun! To be free and careless, to be surrounded by those who love you!  
  
Legolas didn't stop laughing. He didn't want to. He didn't want to fall to misery again. But tears welled in his eyes, and began to drip, in little creeks, growing to rivers, becoming swimming waterfalls.  
  
Would he ever see the great forests of Mirkwood again? Would he live to gaze again at the sun? He let his head fall back against the stone, ignoring the sharp pain.  
  
His laughter dulled. The tears grew. The shadow lengthened. The light faded.  
  
For there was no more hope.  
  
And you've only been here a couple days.   
  
Legolas drew in a deep breath. His body was slowly sliding to the ground, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.  
  
You're making a fool of yourself, you know.   
  
"What are you laughing about?"  
  
A voice drifted to Legolas from outside his chamber. Immediately he straightened at the feminine voice, remembering suddenly the she-elf.  
  
He turned and looked out his barred door. The chains that had once suspended his own arms painfully above his head now clung loosely to tiny, perfect wrists, only barely tight enough to prevent the small hands from slipping through. The she-elf seemed to glow in the darkness, a beacon of hope and beauty amidst such pain and despair. Even though her back faced him, Legolas knew she was beautiful.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
It was the first time in so long he heard genuine concern.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine now." Now he composed himself. Even though he knew the elf couldn't see him, he erased all signs of his weeping from his fair face. "What is your name?"  
  
"I am called Nifien. And what of you, what do they call you?" Her voice was smooth and musical, but held a submerged danger beneath.  
  
Legolas sighed. "Legolas." There was nothing fair about his voice, he thought, as he heard his name be spoken hoarsely through terrible thirst.  
  
Nifien frowned. How did the prince of Mirkwood come to be here? "Ah, I know that name. And what is your story?"  
  
"A series of unfortunate events, that is all." There was a slight edge in Legolas' voice, hinting he didn't want to talk about it. "And yours?"  
  
"I was wandering alone, much as I often do, when I was ambushed by a large party of orcs." A silence fell between the two elves. Nifien could hear Legolas' staggered, difficult breathing. She had heard the pop when he had pushed his shoulders back into place, and after, his mad laughter along with his weeping. All was not well with this elf.  
  
Nifien twisted her head around, trying to get a good view of the elf. He was lying on the ground, hair scattered carelessly about his head. His face was fair beyond all that she had seen, but his eyes were dim, lost in anguish, and he seemed to sink into the shadows clouding the corners of the chamber that held him. He stared with empty eyes at the lofty ceiling, and she knew that he had fallen asleep.  
  
What terrible things had been done to him, she could not guess, but it broke her gentle heart to see his fair body stained with blood and bruises. His skin seemed to stretch tightly over his ribcage, his slim figure seeming incredibly small. Are they starving him, she wondered? How could Saruman do this to this beautiful creature? Was he really such a horrible, heartless being? She could feel herself begin to weep, but she held herself back. Her strength had yet to be broken.  
  
She wouldn't let them hurt the prince of Mirkwood any more.  
  
* * *  
  
"Haldir, what are you doing this far from Lorien?" Thranduil asked the guardian, glad to finally see a familiar face. Thranduil's company were milling about with Haldir's soldiers, revisiting old friends.  
  
"The Lady has sent me. You are summoned to Isenguard, are you not?"  
  
"Aye, that is true, but for what reason, we do not know." Thranduil's smile faded. He was always marvelled by Galadriel's mystical gifts to see things.  
  
Darkness seemed to come over Haldir's face. "We came here to intercept you. The Lady wishes to meet with you ere you meet with Saruman."  
  
Thranduil looked eagerly at Haldir. "Do you know why Saruman has summoned us?"  
  
Haldir hesitated. "Aye, that I do, my lord." Thranduil waited fervently. "My lord, it is on account of your youngest, prince Legolas."  
  
Thranduil frowned.  
  
"He has been taken captive my lord."  
  
All about them seemed to grow silent, as each heard Haldir speak. Thranduil visibly tensed, and he stood still, as if awaiting something more. Even the birds seemed to silence their happy songs at the news that the prince of Mirkwood was a prisoner.  
  
"Please, my lord, come and speak with Galadriel ere you meet Saruman," Haldir begged, hoping not to have aroused great anger within Thranduil.  
  
Thranduil nodded slightly, overcome with disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not Legolas, not the most beloved of his sons!  
  
He walked just behind Haldir, following his lead, but not trusting himself to speak, fearing he would shatter; fearing his mind and heart would break into a thousand pieces.  
  
Then a thought entered his mind.  
  
What if Legolas had already done so?  
  
His pace quickened noticeably, and the others followed suit.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas was wandering through the majestic halls of his own palace, in the northern reaches of Mirkwood. He wondered at the great tapestries and wall hangings, waving friendly greetings to other elves he knew.  
  
He came to the throne room, and opened the doors. His father turned to look at him, at first questioningly, and then in disgust.  
  
"Get out," the king threatened. Legolas stared in confusion, and tried to move, but his feet would not move. "GET OUT!" Thranduil yelled. When Legolas did not move, Thranduil approached Legolas and shoved him roughly out the doors. Then he knelt down next to his youngest son, and whispered angrily in his ear, his voice quivering in fury: "I . . .hate . . .you . . ." Legolas continued to stare in disbelief at his father.  
  
"I thought you loved me . . ."  
  
"Leave. Leave now, and don't let me ever see you again." His father raised his hand, and it began to descend to slap Legolas across the face.  
  
Legolas sat bolt upright, his breath heaving. It was just a dream, just a dream. But here, where all there was was darkness, all that was cruel seemed too real; unbearably real.  
  
My father doesn't hate me; it was just a dream, just a dream . . .  
  
He hugged his knees close to him, and rocked back and forth, like how his father had rocked him on his knee when was so young.  
  
It was just a dream, just a stupid dream . . .  
  
But a tear fell to the floor.  
  
All that was dark and all that was cruel seemed utterly real . . .  
  
Even if it really was just a dream.  
  
* * *  
  
So, there you have it. Another chapter done. What help will Nifien prove to be, or will she just cause more trouble? What awaits Legolas? What does Saruman want? Questions, questions, questions, all to be answered sometime!  
  
SUHET: Sadists Union of Hot Elf Torment. Join today! Bumper stickers included! lol  
  
My thanks to little-lost-one, devilburns, torture_the_elf, and skye!  
  
Princess-yumin: One of the main reasons I brought in the she-elf was to beat on Saruman. More ugly wizard spitting to come! And don't be ashamed to ramble in reviews! Ever read one of mine? Ach! I ramble on for ages! And also, I believe the physiological effects of torture and stuff is way more severe and dangerous. Physical effects, you can black out, or, you know, die, but emotional effects are much, much harder to ignore. And lots of the times, people can't see them and can't help.  
  
Merrylyn: Just wait till you see the results of him knowing the truth about orcs! MWAHA! So long as I don't forget about it . . .  
  
Erhothwen: It's dangerous for elves to be hot, isn't it, you know, with us sadists around and stuff?  
  
Kate: You don't know my sister. Once she strangled me when I took the computer from me. And I'm really sorry I don't post sooner, but I have places to go, people to visit, homework to do, a life to live. I would, but you know, there are things that happen. And if you think your Legolas muse is rabid, HAH! Meet me.  
  
Namarie, all. I am now overly happy, because my friend has given me elven runes. I just have to figure out if they're real or not. Hm. Until next time, namarie.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	14. I Will Not Speak

Disclaimer: I only own Nifien, though I am currently plotting to get a hold of Legolas sometime or other.  
  
A/N: Yay, I updated FAST! Now you can all be happy! But school starts again tomorrow, so updates won't be so quick again. But I'll still update! PROMISES!  
  
* * *  
  
Galadriel stared meaningfully at Thranduil. "Do you have any idea of what Saruman could want with Legolas?" She hated seeing the powerful elf lord so despaired, and she hated having to press him for information, but she had to. "Anything he could want with you?"  
  
Thranduil shook his head. "No, and for the thousandth time, no! What he wants is as much a mystery to me as it is to the rest of you."  
  
Haldir roused himself from his thoughtful silence. "Tell me, my lord, what exactly did Saruman's message say?"  
  
"The messenger was an orc. We killed him when we were done with him. He said Saruman had something of great value to me, and that I would be wanting it back." He sighed. "Great value indeed, that is an understatement. I would give anything to give Legolas back the life he deserves."  
  
"Even your kingdom? Even your own life?"  
  
They all turned to look at Haldir. Somehow, he didn't just think Saruman wanted some trinket. It was something bigger than that. And somehow Saruman must have known that Thranduil's biggest weakness was for his son, and not for jewels or gold.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Suspicion lurked in Thranduil's eyes, but Haldir knew it came with good reason.  
  
"Saruman is not merely summoning you to give you your son. He will want something for his return. Something that is not merely a trinket, for he no longer has interest in riches. His thoughts are meddled in the affairs of power."  
  
Grudgingly they were to admit it, though it was clear that Haldir's thoughts made sense.  
  
"Aye, I see what you speak of." Thranduil shook his head sadly. "And I will be prepared to do all that I can."  
  
"Do not be too hasty in your decisions, Lord Thranduil. For with one victory may come many failures."  
  
So with Galadriel's last words of wisdom, Thranduil departed from their council meeting to prepare for his meeting with the White Wizard.  
  
When at last he came to where his soldiers rested, he heard a voice call out behind him.  
  
"My lord!"  
  
Thranduil turned to see Haldir running towards him. "Haldir, what is it you want?"  
  
Haldir looked determinedly into the elf lord's eyes. "I am coming with you. I promised Aragorn I would do all I could to help Legolas, and I intend to be as much aid in the act as possible."  
  
Thranduil thought, his mind playing with the idea. "Very well, Haldir. You have been severely helpful thus far, let us see if you have more wisdom within you." Thranduil turned to the Mirkwood elves. "We leave now, as soon as we have all we need. We travel swift. Time is a fickle thing. For some it passes slowly, for some it rushes too quickly. Let us use as little of it as possible."  
  
Within the hour, Thranduil departed from the Golden Wood, accompanied by several elves of Mirkwood and the Guardian of Lorien. They ran as fast as they might, tirelessly, for he who awaited them knew not of the love of his friends and father, and to what end it would carry him.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas slowly drifted back into reality from the world of dreams. He awoke to a rude awakening, in the darkness, from the darkness. Though he much preferred the shadows of sleep.  
  
Why is it always so dark?   
  
No sunlight ever found its way into the dungeons. No wind blew about the cells and chambers. He would pay dearly for even a minute under the trees of his home.  
  
But you will never escape here.   
  
I do not need to be told!   
  
So you know already, hm? Why do you still live then?   
  
What . . .?   
  
Do you really think you could stand this place for eternity? Why not die now, and suffer no more?   
  
Because I have a purpose that has not yet been fulfilled.   
  
"You didn't sleep much." Nifien's voice shattered Legolas' conflicting thoughts.  
  
"Have barely slept at all since I first came here."  
  
"So it's a start then?"  
  
Legolas couldn't help but smile at Nifien's perky voice. "Aye." How she could keep high spirits in a place like this evaded him. But then, circumstances had not been friendly for himself.  
  
"Do you feel any better, now that you have rested a little?"  
  
Legolas thought for a moment. "Well, no, not particularly."  
  
"Oh."  
  
And it was true. Bluntly true. Every attempt to heal his body was overcome by new attempts from his tormenter. No matter how he rested, he knew he wouldn't feel any better. For something would happen, he knew, that would only worsen things.  
  
Legolas remained lying on the ground. There was no point to moving and trying to get comfortable. That was impossible. So he merely lay with his bare, scourged skin on the cold, stone floor.  
  
He closed his eyes, and returned to his thoughts.  
  
I guess, to end it now . . .that would make sense.   
  
Aye, that it would. Before it got any worse.   
  
But, what about what Manwë said?   
  
What, about your purpose? What kind of glorious purpose do you think you serve? You, locked in a cell, with no way out, no way to escape. What kind of purpose do you think you could fulfill?   
  
And Legolas was silent, for he did not know.  
  
"Have the elves gotten to know each other?"  
  
Both Legolas and Nifien started at the unexpected voice. Saruman came into their midst, standing in front of Nifien, but on such an angle so he could still see Legolas.  
  
"Are your shoulders sore yet, my pretty little elf?"  
  
Nifien spat into Saruman's face. "Not at all."  
  
Saruman wiped away her spit. "Ah, so you are defiant. Now I know a little about you. But I still lack your name."  
  
Nifien was silent.  
  
"Well, if you do not know, perhaps Legolas does." Saruman walked past Nifien, and stood before the barred door of Legolas' cell. "Will you tell me the pretty elf's name, princeling?" He smiled down at Legolas' exhausted, scarred figure.  
  
"No."  
  
"You won't, will you? Perhaps I can encourage that name from your mouth, to be sputtered up amidst your own blood."  
  
He was trying to scare Legolas. Trying to weaken him by toying with his mind. But it wouldn't work this time.  
  
You cannot hurt me any more.   
  
"Try it."  
  
"Don't you touch him!" Nifien shouted. Saruman turned to face her.  
  
"Will you tell me your name?"  
  
Nifien was silent. She would give the wizard nothing, not even the smallest thing, that he wanted.  
  
"Then Legolas will."  
  
No I won't.   
  
Saruman unlocked Legolas' chamber door. Even as Saruman stood over him, Legolas did not move.  
  
A booted foot kicked Legolas powerfully in his ribcage. The air whooshed from his lungs, and he instinctively curled into a defensive ball. "Tell me now, little elf, or it shall only get worse."  
  
"It'll get worse no matter what I do." His voice was hushed, and scorched with thirst.  
  
Saruman kicked him again in the stomach. But no sound escaped Legolas' lips. There was the sound of a knife being drawn.  
  
"Are you thirsty, little elf?"  
  
Yes, yes, please, I am so thirsty.   
  
"Taste your own blood." Saruman brought the knife down on Legolas' arm, only just puncturing the skin. "Will you speak?" The knife dug deeper. Legolas winced, but clamped his mouth shut. "Are you thirsty?" Deeper, deeper still. The cold steel blade dug past the skin, tearing through muscle, nudging the bone. Legolas squirmed, but did not say anything.  
  
Saruman withdrew the knife, and Legolas breathed out in relief opening his eyes again.  
  
"It will only get worse, little elf."  
  
Of course it will.   
  
Saruman seized Legolas by his injured arm and tossed him out of his chamber. He stumbled, but regained his footing, using a wall for balance. Saruman advanced on him, this time with his staff, and Legolas suddenly found himself pinned against the wall, unable to move.  
  
The wizard walked past Legolas, leaving him there for a moment. But he returned. In the darkness, Legolas could see something in his hands, but he couldn't make it out. As he got closer, he perceived that it was long, and thin; and the end was glowing.  
  
"Shall words be driven from your mouth, like people from a burning house?" Now Legolas knew what it was. "We shall see."  
  
Saruman brought the glowing iron just above Legolas' face. "Do you fear fire, my little elf?" Suddenly, Legolas felt his arm where it had been cut erupt in sudden searing pain. He struggled, but found the only part of his body that was moving was his head, tossing side to side, golden hair flaying wildly about. He bit his lip, drawing blood, but refraining himself from crying out.  
  
The iron was brought from his cut to his stomach. Saruman pressed it hard against his pale skin, but kept his eyes on Legolas' distressed face.  
  
Legolas' vision began to blur, his eyelids began to droop. Saruman saw this and backhanded Legolas across the face. "You will not rest, little elf, ere you speak to me." But Legolas was silent.  
  
He brought the glowing iron to Legolas' neck. The elf's eyes widened, and his head whipped about him, accidentally pressing his cheek against the iron. Then it was brought to his other cheek. Saruman pressed long and hard into his fair skin. He could see Legolas' turmoil, trying to keep from crying out. He would break sooner or later.  
  
Suddenly, Saruman had his knife in his hand again. He smiled briefly at the dazed elf, and then plunged the steel blade into Legolas' already wounded arm.  
  
An icy cry resounded in the hall, and as Saruman twisted the blade, lodged in the elf's arm, Legolas realized the scream came from his own lips.  
  
You are so weak.   
  
"So, you can speak." Saruman withdrew the blade slowly, slicing more and more of Legolas' arm as he did so. "You will have visitors soon, little elf. I hope you can speak clearly by then." But Legolas only barely heard him. Suddenly he was thrown onto the ground. He heard a scurry of footsteps that could only belong to orcs. Saruman left him, and the orcs delightedly leapt upon the forsaken elf, beating him with their boots and fists, cutting him with their armour. He heard himself cry out more than once, and he hated himself for it. But he could do nothing.  
  
Nifien watched in horror as blow upon blow descended upon Legolas. That should have been me, she thought. But at the same time, she marvelled at his strength. It had taken so much to provoke even one cry from him. Legolas was valiant, and would do anything to keep another from harm.  
  
Yet, though profound as his strength was, she knew it was failing quickly.  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Aw, I know, I'm being so mean to Legolas. But HELP IS ON THE WAY!  
  
Merrylyn: Oh, hope is not gonna be there for long! And don't you just think people can get even hotter when they're possessed/insane/crazy/evil? Heh.  
  
Kate: I promise, Saruman WILL SUFFER! And, yes, thank you for the reminder. Much will become of that.  
  
Torture-the-elf: Don't worry, romance, not going to happen. I'm not that great at romance, and besides, Legolas is MINE.  
  
C you all next time!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	15. Old Faces

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
A/N: Okay, I am sooooooooooooo sorry for the long wait! But I had a brief writers block for a while, along with being impeccably busy with stuff. SO HERE IT IS, FINALLY! Longer, for your reading pleasure, and for my apologies!  
  
* * *  
  
The great tower of Orthanc loomed up in the distance. Like a shadow of black menace it ascended into the pale blue sky, tainting the landscape with a foreboding of evil. Silent footsteps left no trace on the landscape, and only the trees remembered their passing. Whispers drifted quietly among the branches and leaves, wondering, encouraging the runners on, seeing their desperation.  
  
Go, run, the trees seemed to say, go whither you are needed; do not let small matters hinder you. And the runners took heed, and as their determined eyes set sight upon Isenguard, their pace quickened, and the trees whisked them onwards.  
  
* * *  
  
A boot in the stomach awoke Legolas from the dreary havens of unconsciousness. He sucked in air and tried to slow his whirring mind.  
  
"Are you thirsty, little elf?" Saruman shoved a bowl into Legolas' face. It was filled with water. "Do you want a drink?"  
  
Legolas looked suspiciously at the water, then looked away. It was probably poisoned.  
  
"Come now, I don't want my little elf to die of thirst on me."  
  
Legolas thought for a moment. Then again, maybe it wasn't tainted. Saruman didn't want him dead; he wanted him alive . . .even if just barely so. And much longer without water, Legolas would surely perish.  
  
Do not drink it. Nothing good can come of Saruman's bidding.   
  
But I will die without it.   
  
Then die! End the suffering here! Just die, just die!   
  
I still have a task to finish.   
  
Legolas took the bowl of water grudgingly from Saruman's hands and placed the wooden surface against his mouth. The water graced his lips, and he swallowed, the refreshing liquid tasting better than the finest of mixtures he had tasted ever before.  
  
Suddenly, Saruman knocked the bowl from Legolas' grasp ere he could finish it all. The water spilt over his front and dripped down his back. All of a sudden all of Legolas' wounds began burning. He hissed in surprise, and tried to brush away all traces of the water.  
  
It was tainted. I told you, but you did not listen, you fool.   
  
The burning pain intensified. Legolas clawed at his body madly, blindly scratching at his skin. It spread, uncontrollable, throughout his body, searing every inch, every corner reachable. He cried out, almost oblivious to everything that he was doing, to what was going on around him. He golden hair whipped wildly about his face, contorted in agony.  
  
Saruman grabbed Legolas by his hair, roughly yanking his twisted face upwards. Legolas ' eyes were shut tight, his breathing rapid and panicked. Saruman spoke in a dark, deep voice, a threatening whisper.  
  
"Stay alive, little elf. Do not think death will save you."  
  
He tossed Legolas to the side, and strode out from the room, as a man would come from his own home on any normal day.  
  
Legolas moaned softly. He rolled to the side, and vomited onto the ground.  
  
You fool. Why did you take the water? Of course it was poisoned. What else would it have been?   
  
I would die within a day without it.   
  
Yet you shall only grow weaker now . . .  
  
Be silent. There are worse things that could have happened.   
  
"Legolas. Legolas! Are you alright?" Nifien called across in a hushed voice, hoping there were no guards about, or no Saruman.  
  
Legolas laughed weakly to himself. Did he sound alright? Did he look alright? "Not in the best condition, no."  
  
"Listen, you need to rest . . .Saruman has something planned, he said something about visitors, get some rest, Legolas."  
  
His body convulsed, and more vomit spilt from his lips. He groaned to himself. Surely there was no content in his stomach. How long would the poison keep it's affect?  
  
Legolas dragged himself towards the jagged wall, but merely lay on the floor. He would try to rest. But it didn't matter what happened. It didn't matter what Saruman had planned for him.  
  
Because he was going to die anyways, right here; in the dungeons of Isenguard. There was nothing left this elf had to live for.  
  
So end it now, pass away before it can get worse.   
  
And Legolas did not reply to his thought, for it began to make perfect sense. He lifted his head to stare into the dark, shrouded ceiling, far above his head. The scars and open wounds on his body throbbed painfully, but he put his suffering out of his mind. He slowed his breathing, and let his body relax.  
  
Slowly, Legolas walked over the rugged earth, carefully avoiding roots. Roots that belonged to no living thing; they merely sprouted from the earth every now and again, like some determined conspiracy to trip the passer-bys. His feet continued to manoeuvre through the scatterings of dead leaves and branches without his control. Around him the trees were merely stumps, the sky a dreary grey, and the ground evict of all grass. Before him lay a great body of water, vast as the entire horizon, and deep as the earth itself. He stopped where the waves lapped up on the rough, gritty sand. This was not the ocean. The water was black, and it seemed hollow. No gulls cried, and the waves made no sound. It was reaching; reaching for Legolas, beckoning him to immerse himself in the water. He stepped hesitantly forward. The water was calling him, calling him. No gull cried, it was not the sea-longing. But he walked forward. He dipped his foot into the water. It was icy, and the waves bit into his skin, but he continued to walk forward. The water was hollow. His feet began to numb; then his legs.  
  
I am stronger than this.  
  
Legolas snapped his eyes open. How had he become so weak? How had he come so lost that he would answer willingly to death's call? He knew he could be stronger than this.  
  
But then, at the time of his capture, he had not been himself. He had been foolish and selfish, and weak. All that had happened since was merely worsening it. Evil had come at a bad time.  
  
Not that any time was a good time, but still.  
  
The soft padding of footsteps resounded softly in the dungeons. Legolas let his head fall back.  
  
He's back already . . .?   
  
He could see the tall figure of Saruman looming out of the distant shadows. He had spoken of "visitors". Half of him wanted to see whom it was who had come, and the other half dreaded it.  
  
"Come, little elf." Saruman's voice drifted over to him, dripping with the same malice that shone in those deep, dark tunnels of eyes. "Your visitors have nearly arrived." There was the sound of metal sliding over stone, as the chamber door was opened. Saruman beckoned Legolas to him with his hand.  
  
I can be stronger.   
  
Legolas lifted himself from the ground, and clutched his stomach as he felt another spell of vomiting coming on. But he held it back. He walked forward, slowly and shakily, yet determined to hold his ground. A spark of surprise lit up in Saruman's eyes, but he smothered it in emotionless shadow. Legolas arrived before Saruman, still clutching his stomach, but his face cloaked in a mask of hatred that betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil.  
  
"Follow me."  
  
Saruman turned and walked away, not even looking to see if Legolas would follow. He knew he would. Curiosity would lead him.  
  
Legolas lagged behind Saruman, his tired feet refusing to carry his starved body at a normal pace. The pain in his stomach was growing, stabbing him again and again with an invisible dagger. He could feel Nifien's eyes on his hunched back. It shamed him that she had seen him so weak and so irrational. But he could change. He would be different now.  
  
A great, steep, spiralling staircase came before him, and he could hear Saruman's padding steps high above. Grudgingly he set his foot on the first step, and heaved the rest of his body up behind him. Then the next step. And stair and stair after that. It took him far too long to climb the staircase, and he knew inwardly that his body was not fit to handle it, but he had to do it.  
  
At last he arrived at the peak of the stairs, where Saruman was waiting, a pleased look on his face. Legolas felt like collapsing then. He could hardly breathe. How could it take that much effort to merely climb a staircase? How could that exhaust him so, when he once could leap through the trees for hours and hours on end.  
  
"It's about time, little elf. Now, come, there is still a ways to go." And Saruman turned, and walked briskly onwards, following a labyrinth of stairs and corridors. Legolas did his best to keep up, but he could not help but stop now and again and catch his breath. His body was defeated, this he knew.  
  
Oh, yes, he knew it.  
  
He refused to believe it.  
  
* * *  
  
Their final destination was a room, with several sets of doors. The walls were high and jagged, made of black material. The floor seemed almost to reflect the elf and wizard. Against one wall was a large, black throne with a tall back. The only light was that of several torches.  
  
Suddenly, Saruman had a staff in his hand, and was quickly advancing on Legolas. "I must go greet your visitors now." He lunged the staff forward, hitting Legolas with an unfathomable force in the stomach. He skidded across the room, coming to rest on his side against the wall. He gulped in air, shutting his eyes tight, feeling the presence of Saruman looming over him. He expected Saruman to beat him with his staff, but instead, he turned and walked briskly away.  
  
"Wait here, little elf. I'll be back soon."  
  
As soon as Saruman was gone, Legolas gasped desperately, trying to breathe properly. He felt he could barely keep himself awake. It must have been at least three days now that Legolas had been here. That's three days with no food and only a small portion of water. Just enough to keep him alive. Three days of ruthless, cruel torment. Three hellish days.  
  
Only three.  
  
Still an eternity to go.  
  
Legolas rolled to face the wall. He vomited onto the floor. Nothing but liquid. But still his stomach convulsed, but there was nothing left. Nothing left but a burning, miserable agony.  
  
Time passed slowly, yet inevitably. Legolas remained facing the wall, not wanting anyone to see his face contorted in pain and torment. His breathing had become continually more rapid and shorter. He wanted to cry. He wanted to break down and cry. He wanted someone to comfort him; to tell him everything was going to be all right. He wanted that more than anything.  
  
But everything wasn't going to be all right.  
  
No one was going to come and hold him. No one was going to come to comfort him.  
  
And so he did not weep; it was pointless.  
  
Eventually, Legolas heard the thump of heavy footsteps approaching. He huddled closer against the wall.  
  
The doors to his left opened and two orcs entered. They shoved Legolas roughly away from his protective position, and bound his hands tight. Legolas complied, only because he wished no additional trouble. The orcs then looped the rope over a high mounted latch that probably was the usual perch for a torch or lantern. They sulked off into the shadows, snickering and whispering to each other. One of them clasped the loose end of the rope.  
  
Soon, Legolas could hear voices muffled by the surrounding walls. Their footsteps were quiet. He listened anxiously as they came closer and closer.  
  
Suddenly the doors across from Legolas flew open. One voice rose above the muffled sounds.  
  
"What is it you wa--"  
  
Legolas whipped his head around at the familiar voice, just as the orcs tugged on the rope and heaved Legolas to his feet, arms suspending overhead. There was no time to hide his shock.  
  
Haldir stopped short as Thranduil cut himself off. He stared in horror at the delicate figure of his friend, his body decorated with dried blood and both fresh wounds and healing scars, dotted with large and small bruises. But this was not the elf he knew. The spark of life was vacant from his stormy eyes, his face no longer glowed, now paler than ever. His skin stretched tightly over his bones.  
  
Haldir tried to comprehend the terror on Legolas' face, but he was not looking at Haldir. His eyes were fixed on his father.  
  
Those two had one of the strongest relationships Haldir had seen between father and son. The King loved his son beyond all else. Though Haldir was torn at the sight of his dear friend, he couldn't begin to imagine what Thranduil was feeling. *~* Thranduil locked eyes with his son. He tried to think . . .tried to think rationally . . .tried to speak. But that was too much to ask. All time seemed to stand still. He could hear his own heart pounding; he could hear Legolas' rapid, panicked, laboured breathing. Every little rustle of clothing, every little breath . . .it all seemed to stand out.  
  
"How . . .dare . . .you," he breathed, just barely above a whisper. Fire burned a loathing light in his eyes. He could keep his composure, in every other case. Not now.  
  
Saruman grinned. "I have something, I believe, of great value to you." He smirked. "I ask for an exchange."  
  
"What is the price?" Haldir spoke in place of Thranduil. He knew how hard this was for him.  
  
"Your land, in stead for his freedom, and life." He motioned to Legolas.  
  
"You shall not have it," Legolas growled. Haldir nearly started at the sound of his voice. Why, he didn't know; he did not expect him not to speak.  
  
Saruman turned slowly on Legolas. He reached up, and put his hand around Legolas' hand, and squeezed.  
  
Haldir stared in horror. Legolas' hand was broken, this he could tell. But how cold hearted do you have to be to cause one so innocent to suffer.  
  
Saruman relented. He growled, "It was not your question."  
  
He turned to Thranduil. "What is your answer?"  
  
* * *  
  
HAHAHAHAHA! CLIFFHANGER! Once again, sorry for the long update, I am being rushed, so there will be no reviewer replies this time, but next chapter I'll reply to both of your reviews, I promise! Thank you to all for waiting, even if you do want to kill me. BRING ON THE DEATH THREATS! Please be kind and review!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	16. The Wrong Price

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Except random orcs and Nifien. (*Sarcastically * Oh joy.)  
  
Yes, I am back! I was really depressed while writing this, after a dance that was fun except for the slow songs, which were depressing, but I'm depressed and tired. But weirdly, I can write freaky good when I'm sad. So please be nice and make me happy and review, pretty please!  
  
* * *  
  
Silence hung in the air, like a great, dark blanket wrapping itself about them.  
  
"His answer is no."  
  
Saruman wheeled on Legolas, a glimmer of annoyance in his eyes, kindled by an underlying light of pleasure.  
  
A crack sounded in the thick air, and a whip lashed out of the shadows, like a tongue from a great cavernous mouth. It licked across Legolas' back. He winced slightly.  
  
"I am not ask-"  
  
"My answer is no."  
  
Saruman turned from his victim to Thranduil. Though little was portrayed in his eyes, Thranduil thought he saw that little flicker of gladness leap into flames.  
  
"So you agree with your son." Thranduil was sure of it now. "Perhaps you can be persuaded."  
  
The orc holding the whip emerged from the shadows. He stood just off to the side of Legolas, so that the elves could still see him.  
  
Saruman waved a small hand motion.  
  
Crack.  
  
Thranduil's mind panicked. Though Legolas showed no pain on his face, he could feel his turmoil. Feel the shocks of pain in his very body, shrieking through his body as the whip licked and then bit into the untainted flesh.  
  
"You have no right to do this!" he shouted angrily, only barely keeping his voice from wavering.  
  
Saruman grinned. "Then stop me."  
  
Haldir had half a mind to toss a dagger through the wizard's heart-if he even had one-and pierce his body with arrows again, and again, and again, until death wrapped it's icy grasp about him, and even then, let his dead body suffer, and suffer, and suffer. It wouldn't matter if the entire army of Uruk-hai came onto them, he wanted Saruman to suffer. And he knew, that before he himself met his end, the wizard would.  
  
"What do you say now?" Saruman spoke. Every little word, every little syllable, the elves hated. They loathed how he grinned at their horror, and how he almost laughing at Legolas' torment. Every one of them wanted him dead; wanted him to lie on the ground, and taste his own blood, and choke on it, as life drifted away.  
  
Again, Legolas spoke up. "His answer is no! He will not give you his kingdom!" His voice shrunk to nearly a mumble. "Not for me."  
  
But Thranduil heard him. He heard Legolas' despaired voice mutter those doubting words. And he wanted more than anything to have Legolas back. He felt he would give anything for his return, even his own kingdom.  
  
"Pester them no longer! They will not give you what you want!"  
  
Haldir's heart shattered. And then the shambles were crushed, crushed to a fine dust. How Legolas could be so determined even through his pain, escaped him. So pure, so strong a soul; he deserved nothing of what he was receiving. He deserved to be freed from that rope, freed from the dungeons.  
  
But Haldir still had that fragment of rational thought left: not at the current price.  
  
Crack.  
  
Crack.  
  
The whip then fell across the back of Legolas' knees. The flesh gave way beneath the cruel leather, and spilt forth blood. Legolas' legs gave out from beneath him, and he now hung from the rope, suspended over the ground.  
  
Again and again, the orc aimed for Legolas' legs. And then he moved. He came to the front of him. Where scar upon scar of healing tissue remained, and still fresh wounds invited the cruel creature to open them again, and let them retch forth their part of agony. The orc's yellow eyes rose. He was looking at Legolas' broken hand.  
  
Crack!  
  
Legolas' eyes suddenly widened, his teeth gritted together, as the lash fell over his crushed hand.  
  
Crack!  
  
Again.  
  
Crack!  
  
And again.  
  
"Is your answer still no, Thranduil? You are free to change your mind any time you desire."  
  
And how he wished to change it right then! But he remained in his forsaken silence, not trusting his own words.  
  
Suddenly, the orc relented. He shrunk away back into the shadows. Legolas raised his head to the sky, his eyes shut.  
  
Elbereth, save me.   
  
Thranduil's eyes were locked on the little puddles of blood collecting beneath Legolas' body.  
  
Drip.  
  
Splash.  
  
Drip.  
  
Splash.  
  
It was the only sound he seemed to hear. And he chided himself for not doing anything to help his son. But he continued to remind himself over and over: not at the current price.  
  
"Thranduil, answer me now. What is your decision?"  
  
The elf lord calmed himself. "No." He was aware of how soft his voice was, but he feared that he may give away his grief and accept Saruman's offer.  
  
Saruman grinned. Thranduil's hands clenched into fists. "It will only get worse."  
  
The orc returned. Now he held a long, thick iron, one end of it glowing red.  
  
The creature approached Legolas, the glowing end reflecting in it's round, yellow eyes.  
  
He plunged the iron upon one of Legolas' still fresh wounds. He writhed as the orc twisted it, and pressured it. And he knew he couldn't stay strong much longer.  
  
The orc then chose another fairly recent wound. He shoved the iron into where the scab had yet to heal, and Legolas let out a strangled, muffled cry.  
  
Horror licked a black, cruel flame in Thranduil's heart. It burned at his insides, singed at his composure.  
  
Another and yet another gash the orc chose. As cut after cut reopened, blood spilt forth onto the floor, a tiny sea beneath Legolas' feet.  
  
"What is your answer now, Thranduil? Do you stand still with your son?"  
  
"You shall not have Mirkwood." Haldir confirmed, in place of Thranduil, who was slowly, slowly being driven from his rationality.  
  
Saruman grinned, yet again, that evil grin, oozing malice. "My, it does take a lot to persuade you, doesn't it?"  
  
Haldir couldn't restrain himself from gasping at what happened next.  
  
The orc raised the iron, still hot, above his shoulder, and brought it down mercilessly upon Legolas' ribs. A muffled cry escaped his pale lips.  
  
Another blow caught him on the other side.  
  
This time, he let out an icy scream, which pierced every gentle heart that could hear. When he shut his mouth, his eyes began to droop. The iron came down again across the same spot. And again, he cried out. Black spots began to frolic in his field of vision; the sounds began to blend into each other. He was loosing too much blood . . .  
  
"STOP!" Thranduil shouted.  
  
Saruman held up a hand for the orc to stop.  
  
"You cannot do this." Before Saruman could say anything, he continued. "But you shall not have Mirkwood." There was a note of finality in his voice.  
  
Saruman smiled openly. "Very well, Thranduil. But stray not far. You shall be called upon again."  
  
Thranduil turned swiftly around, and strode quickly from the room, and descended from Isenguard with Haldir and the others racing after him.  
  
They broke into a run as they came into the sunlight. They did not relent until they reached the borders of Lorien.  
  
There, Thranduil slowed. He staggered to a small boulder. He let his body slump to the earth, and let all his grief run carelessly in a downpour of anguished tears.  
  
* * *  
  
Voila, chapter 16! It's odd, I seem to write better when I'm depressed or in a crappy mood. But there you have it! Let's start with chapter 14 reviews. Thanks to Lady of the Forest, little-lost-one, Goblz, and Legolasluver.  
  
Melissa greenleaf: *takes elf muffins * Yummy!  
  
Mija: I hope you got the point, from all the evil, please-die-Saruman thoughts, that yes, he will get his.  
  
Merrylyn: Yes, you're right, I think it is the glint in the eyes. And the laugh. Mwahahahhahahaha. Go Haldir!  
  
Kate: Hm, you killed the guys in your school? Interesting. I'm going to kill most of the directors in Hollywood. There's a thing called the Conspiracy of the Hot Guys. In most movies, the hottest people usually die. Not in all (ie, LOTR), but lots. It's a conspiracy. And Mel Gibson has to die too. He's a duck.  
  
The Dark Rogue: Hm, first two? I'll have to read them. I don't really read anything I write, just write it and run away and write something else. That' s me.  
  
Princess-yumin: Aw, that sucks. I think computers have a secret little thing against the happiness of people like us. And I know, drinking unicorn blood is so evil! Must.kill.. uh.. whoever drank it (I forget).  
  
Lia Strife: HELLO!  
  
Now, for chapter 15 reviews. Thank you to ZeroCool Lady of the Forest, Melissa greenleaf, usula, goblz, Erhothwen.  
  
Merrylyn: Revenge on it's way..sometime..I don't know when yet, but IT WILL HAPPEN!  
  
Lia Strife: Oui, inner torment is way worse than physical. Because physical you can hide it, you can heal it, you can ignore it. You can't ignore your own thoughts raging at you.  
  
Kate: I am cruel. Cruel am I. Cruel is me. I am the Dark One.  
  
The Dark Rogue: Okay, I am not killing Legolas. First and foremost. Because I love him, and he cannot die. But on your other request, sure! Give me your email, I'll email you.  
  
Princess-yumin: Yay, we can have an after-school voodoo class! I know, cliff-hangers rock, eh? Most people hate them, I love them! And yes, the whole spiel about the spectator vs. actually being there, that's true. You can't feel something, I think, unless you're either right there, or you are that person.  
  
Lady of Dreams: Hm, another Nifien hater. I may be pleased here. And I know she seems freaky insensitive . . .you've given me ideas. I need to do something with that. *GASP * Sudden inspiration! HAHA! Ideas, thank you thank you thank you. And there is a reason for her insensitiveness. Trust me.  
  
Lirenel: Don't worry; I couldn't concentrate if I had to hurt ALL the elves. Only one getting physically hurt is Legolas.  
  
Good bye for now! Will continue soon! Please be kind and review!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	17. Loosing Faith

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, or I would be dead. Therefore, I own NOTHING! *cries *  
  
A/N: Hello! Sorry for the kind of delay, but I had a bad week. You know, when you just feel like there's no point to anything, and questioning life and crap? Well, anyways, I didn't feel like making myself nor other people more miserable, ie Legolas, so I didn't write for a while. BUT HERE IT IS! Oh, and tomorrow's my birthday! So, let's do a hobbit-type thing! I'll give YOU a present! MY FIC! *hands over new chapter * YAY! But, I also expect something in return . . .REVIEWS! So, please review, I love you for it!  
  
I have a note from Princess-yumin for all of you who read her fic! Here is her note:  
  
"I'm right now swamped. My schedule includes something for every night. Mondays I have Piano Theory and driving school, Tuesday I have driving lessons, Wednesdays I have in-class driving lessons, Thursdays I have Aqualeaders (which teaches you how to teach little kids how to swim), Fridays I have to work, Saturday I work, Sunday I junior instruct at the pool and have practical pianos lessons. Top that off with being on Student Council and the School's newspaper editor, upcoming finals, seminars, timed essay writing and final projects, I'm one busy person. So here's the deal to the readers: I'll have to change my updating intervals to once every two weeks, but they'll get a longer chapter instead. It's much easier that way because when I'm in the mood to write, I can really get going. And if I ever get the odd chance, there may be some chapters in between those two weeks. And this arrangement will only last for about a month or so, until I'm done school for the year, exams and all, which is on June 27. I really tried to avoid doing this, but right now it's incredibly important for me to focus on school, especially because of exams. I know I promised never to not update infrequently, but circumstances changed. I didn't think that my driving school would begin now, because of an issue with not enough students, but there were enough, and so I have in total seven hours of driving school a week. (3 in class on Monday and Wednesday, one in the car on Tuesdays) And that's the time I normally write in. I really do apologize, I feel terrible for doing this. It might sound melodramtic, but I feel like I betrayed readers and am very guilty at the moment.... -Tiffany/princess_yumin" So, yes. She is not betraying her readers! We love her! Right? *resounding yes * So, yes, that's just for all of you who read her fic Colour of Distress.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas' limp body skidded over the dungeon floor, this time not in his cell. He cringed as his burns and other wounds scraped over the rough stone. Darkness crept back into the corners of his eyes, his mind began to blur. The orc guard awakened him crudely again.  
  
He curled up into a defensive ball. Surely Nifien could see him. Surely she could see his wounds and his torment. He hated himself for it, but he found himself thinking, why isn't she helping me, why doesn't she say something?  
  
I can't be that weak. I can get on on my own.   
  
But she could at least help me. They haven't touched her yet.   
  
And so she should remain thus.   
  
Legolas' sharp, but dulling senses picked up the familiar, foreboding sound of Saruman's padding feet. He curled tighter, wanting to vanish forever, never wanting to have to be that strong again.  
  
"They're gone little elf. And you are still here."  
  
A powerful kick caught him in his side. Air gushed from his lungs. He felt himself retch, and his lips spilt forth a clear liquid onto the ground. The poison hadn't lost its effect.  
  
"Why are you still here, little elf?" Saruman bent down and snatched him by his long, golden hair, which had lost its shimmer, and hauled him to his feet. "You could speak back there, elfling, now speak now!"  
  
Legolas whimpered. Two whips lashed out from either side of him, curling and licking at his legs, drawing back stained with crimson, and lashing out again. His leggings ripped and tore, and his pale skin lay open to the stinging bite.  
  
"I don't want to set eyes upon you any longer! You filthy, snivelling, little insignificant maggot."  
  
Legolas shut his eyes, praying that it would all stop.  
  
He's wrong, he's wrong . . .  
  
"Did you think you were doing the right thing? Were you trying to be heroic?" He struck Legolas across the face with an open hand. "Patriotic?" he shouted, and catching Legolas with a closed fist. He rattled him brutally as the elf's eyes began to droop, and Legolas found himself alarmingly awake again.  
  
"I wanted you away from here! I couldn't stand to look at your ugly face, your oversized figure, hear your hideous voice. You should have been gone. There should be one more vacant chamber down here. Not some worthless, nothing of an elf, whimpering pathetically, pleading for attention. Pleading for someone to take him home."  
  
Another blow caught Legolas in the face.  
  
He's lying, he's lying, it's all just some trick . . .  
  
"I can see your mind little elf. I can see you trying to deny it. Trying to deny all that is true. You really are a wretched little brat, aren't you."  
  
Don't listen, shut him out.   
  
Saruman laughed, and it sent shivers down Legolas' spine. "You must loath yourself! How could anyone love you? How could anyone ever love you repulsive, hideous, pathetic, weak, beast of a thing!"  
  
Saruman tossed Legolas' dangerously light figure. He hit the wall hard, and slumped to the floor.  
  
"Do you think anyone cares what happens to you down here?" The whips were still groping at his legs. "Do you think anyone would care if you died? Your own father just left now, without even a second glance at you!" A stray lash caught Legolas across his battered face. "If any of them loved you, you wouldn't be here right now."  
  
He loves me, he loves me, he doesn't hate me, he loves me . . .  
  
Legolas clapped his hands over his ears, shut his eyes, clamped shut his mouth. Saruman raved on, his cunning voice delving beneath Legolas' skin, piercing his heart, piercing his thoughts. Tears began to swell in the corners of his eyes. He tried to deny it, tried to shut him out.  
  
But he couldn't just stop listening. His heart was gentle; far too tender for those cruel words shot at him.  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir wrapped his arm around the elf lord's shoulders. The elves sat in stunned silence, brooding on their grief, trying not to think. Haldir had never seen Thranduil cry. He had never seen him loose his composure. It startled him, and he wished dearly he didn't have to cry like that. He himself was only just barely clinging to his self-control.  
  
"We're going to help him. He's going to be alright." Haldir's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He wasn't looking at Thranduil; he was staring off into space, blocking emotion from his head. "Legolas is strong." He was reassuring more himself than Thranduil, but it was meant for them both.  
  
It was true. He was amazed at Legolas' determination. What might have been running through that elf's head he didn't know, but he admired it. He knew he himself would never have been able to withstand what was done to his friend.  
  
"I should have been able to help him," Thranduil sighed. "He shouldn't be locked away in that dreary place still."  
  
"It's not your fault, Thranduil. You did what was right." Haldir knew it was true, that they had done the right thing. But he wished more than anything that they had Legolas with them right then. "Come now, let's return to Lorien, ere darkness falls."  
  
The small party of elves picked themselves up, and continued wearily on through the trees, listening to them whisper and sigh pityingly as the runners returned. They reached out to embrace the elves, but they shunned the branches. There was only one who truly deserved comfort now.  
  
* * *  
  
He had never been a songwriter, not like Bilbo and the hobbits. But inspiration seemed to be overflowing in his mind, even at the worst of times.  
  
"Grey leaves are budding from grey trees, so old  
  
Their bark is feeble, their roots are starving  
  
Merciless breezes, so ancient and cold,  
  
Sweep by the trees, deep riverbeds carving.  
  
Deep ocean alike to deep riverbed  
  
Lifeless and dark and its waves still as death  
  
Land stays untamed by the hands of the dead  
  
The hard rain's their tears, the wind is their breath  
  
For ghosts make no paths through bush, nor on earth  
  
Their ships set sail and yet drift without trace  
  
Thus none can find them and comfort their worth  
  
Nor can they return each other's embrace  
  
A sigh chills the land, so grey and dying;  
  
Land of a heart, lonely and crying."  
  
Legolas smiled. It had turned out okay.  
  
Why are you smiling?   
  
His mouth dropped into a frown again. Huddled against the wall, without chains, without being locked away. Saruman knew there was no hope of him escaping. Not with his body mutilated as it was. But even if he did dare to run, he would be stopped; and then punished.  
  
He glanced down at his legs. Most of the wounds had stopped bleeding. A thin crust of dried blood encased his legs from his feet to his thighs. It would be useless and painful to try and walk. But none of his injuries pained him. Not his broken hand, bruised and broken ribs, slashed skin. He was at his limit.  
  
They couldn't hurt him anymore.  
  
He laughed quietly to himself. It didn't matter what they did to him now. His face was slashed down one side. Dark circles circled his empty eyes from lack of sleep. Everything about him was fading. Perhaps his life was, but he took no notice. It didn't matter.  
  
It may have sounded silly, had he spoken to Aragorn, but he was ugly. He was broken, weak, mutilated, disgraceful, ugly. Even if he did return home, he would be looked down upon, shamed for the rest of his life. Haunted forever by his past, and unaccepted by his own kind. The arrogance of the elves was above the race of men and dwarves.  
  
He leaned his head back against the wall. As long as he was here, it would do him good to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir moved silently through the trees. Night had fallen long ago, but his eyes still functioned well. Someone was moving up ahead. They hadn't heard him yet, and it was well that way. He wished to see who the person was ere they could see him.  
  
They were nearing the edge of the woods. Haldir could tell it was an elf, and he had no sense of danger or evil. But he was curious as to where they were going.  
  
Just as the woods came to their end, the elf turned around, and Haldir could see his face. Fair and golden-haired, with only a slight glimmer of surprise in those eyes. He was reminded brutally of his suffering friend.  
  
"Mae govannen, Haldir," Thranduil sighed.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
Thranduil's face was weary. "I know what I must do now. And I must do it alone."  
  
Haldir's mind clicked. "You're going to Isenguard."  
  
Thranduil nodded. "But do not worry, I am not about to give up my kingdom."  
  
Haldir had known that. Thranduil was a good ruler, and would never do that to his own people. But he knew that he was about to do something drastic. "You may go alone. But I will follow you."  
  
The elf-lord sighed, frustrated. "I would prefer to go about this alone."  
  
"That is what you may prefer, but I guarantee you, you will be better off in company."  
  
"It is hopeless to argue with you, isn't it." Thranduil smiled slightly. "You're so much like him."  
  
A moment of melancholy silence lapsed.  
  
"Come now. Let us go."  
  
As the two elves departed Lothlorien, Galadriel turned away from her mirror. A single tear rolled down her fair cheek.  
  
"Namarie, Thranduil."  
  
* * *  
  
Mwahahahahahaha. Bit of foreshadowing there. Anyways, how'd you like it? Please give me a birthday present and review! Flames, whatever, I don't care. ANYTHING! I don't care what bad things you say about my story, but I love to hear it anyways. REVIEW! Thank you very, very, very much to goblz and merrylyn, I wuv oo! *scares everybody away * Hey, no COME BACK!  
  
Melissa greenleaf: Yay, cookies! *munches on cookie * Mm, there should be a Legolas shaped cookie mould.  
  
The Dark Rogue: Hm, I almost spelt your name The Dark Rouge . . .that'd be kind of like saying The Crimson. ANYWAYS! Yes, I do have messenger. Add me. You can get my email from looking at my little bio, etc on here.  
  
Legolasluver: Yay, destroy mankind! *does Frodo's freaky little hobbit/chicken dance * Dumb Frodo. He's a snob in the book and just annoying in the movie. Actually, he's okay in the movie, but he still bugs me.  
  
Lady of Dreams: Onomatopoeias are the BEST! I wrote this poem once, and every second line was just onomatopoeias. I messed around with the font too, and that's the coolest thing about it. Anyways, yes, Saruman's death seems to be a trend of desire here. Mwaha. Still pondering over where and when it should happen. Oh, SPEAKING of Saruman's death, I know how he dies in the movie now! ANYONE WHO DOESN'T WANT TO KNOW, DON'T READ THIS: Wormtongue slits his neck then shoves him over Orthanc. The Legolas shoots an arrow that goes whizzing above Wormtongue, who laughs at Legolas because he missed. Then the arrow comes back down and impales Wormtongue's skull.  
  
Kate: Mel Gibson (who's real name is Mel Columcile Gerard Gibson), in the Patriot, is, well, a duck. It's a bit of an inside joke but here's the thing: when Heath Ledger dies (conspiracy of the hot guys, they all die), Mel Gibson's looking at him, and kind of bites his lip or sucks it in or something and his eyebrows go up and he looks like a duck. Hehe.  
  
Ankhesanamun: WHAT? Legolas ISN'T your favourite!? *shouts * . . .Meh, that's okay. I understand. And PETE, you say. Hm, best I don't get involved with the, eh?  
  
Erhothwen: Other than band-aids, you know what else works good? *smiles hugely at a very terrified looking Legolas * Kissing them better! *Legolas runs away screaming *  
  
Lady of the Forest: *takes plushie * Yay, another one to add to my collection! *opens closet and an avalanche of Legolas plushies crush her *  
  
Wandering-Ranger: YAY! MORE COOKIES! Me like cookies!  
  
Lia Strife: Well, for one thing, Saruman would probably sick a hell of a lot of orcs on them and kill them all, then go for Mirkwood. =p But, then again, you like character death, you would have enjoyed that . . .oh well, to each her own!  
  
YAY! TOMORROW'S MY BIRTHDAY! *continues doing freaky Frodo hobbit/chicken dance * REVIEW SO I CAN BE HAPPY! I WUV OO!  
  
Namarie.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	18. Cry

Disclaimer: I only own Nifien, nothing else! NOTHING! *sob *  
  
A/N: Hello, I'm back again! Creative chapter title, no? *wink * Thank you all for reviewing, great birthday gifts! And wow, 212 reviews?! I can't thank you guys enough! *faints * Thank you so much for reviewing! I appreciate everything, good and bad, flame and flattery! Tell me how I'm doing! Now, this chapter I DID make longer! Yay! Have fun! This chapter should have a slightly higher rating due to violence. It starts out pretty bad. I'm not particularly happy with the start, but whatever. It gets somewhat better as it progresses.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas' eyes snapped open. He had been dreaming again, about his father; about how his father hated him. No part of him wanted to believe that. But part of him took it into consideration.  
  
Nifien was sleeping soundly. He tried not to be angry, but he couldn't help but feel jealous that nothing had happened to her, and everything he could imagine had befallen him. For what purpose did Saruman even keep her here? He had no use of her.  
  
Legolas looked around. From what he could make out, he and Nifien were the only prisoners. Vaguely, his mind began to drift. He remembered the towering mallorn trees of Lothlorien, the sunset, the sunrise; for in his world before this, the sun had always risen, the stars had always shone. The birds had sung happily and the trees had welcomed his presence. What he would give to have one more day in that life! One more day, one hour, one minute; anything!  
  
"Why are you crying?"  
  
The question was flat, no compassion, no feeling in the voice whatsoever. Just a question. Legolas turned his face to Nifien. Nothing glimmered in her face, unless it was annoyance.  
  
Legolas almost laughed. He felt himself smile a crazed grin. "How could you not?" Now he laughed. "My father, my friends, they all hate me. They all will just leave me here. And I'll remain forever, never to see the trees again, never to love, never to be loved . . ." He shook his head, and let it drop into his hands. "I'll remain for eternity, in the dark, drowning in my own blood, but never quite dying." Anger rose in his voice. "Is that reason enough to cry?"  
  
Nifien shrugged. "I guess."  
  
  
  
Legolas loathed how he could give up so easily. He hated how he sought pity and help from his friends even when before he wouldn't accept either in any situation. But there seemed nothing else to do. There was nothing left to live for, no reason for him to go on. But he knew, were he to try and take his own life, he couldn't do it. Life was a precious thing, though wretched.  
  
"Little elfling," the all to familiar voice rose from the dark. Legolas felt himself pale. "Don't be so sad. Soon you'll be free again."  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow. What was that supposed to mean?  
  
Suddenly, Saruman was standing beside Legolas, peering down at him. "Do you remember what I told you once about orcs?"  
  
It took a moment for Legolas to register the thought. He had been trying to forget everything Saruman had told him.  
  
"They were elves once. Do you remember me saying that to you?"  
  
Oh, how he did. He clapped his hands over his ears. Saruman leaned down and forced them away, putting force especially on the broken one.  
  
"Tortured, mutilated, broken elves. A twisted and terrible form of life. Morgoth created them to breed on their own. But, seeing as you're not going anywhere . . ." Saruman knelt down, so that he was bent, face to face with the terrified elf, "I've always thought that an orc made directly from an elf would be stronger."  
  
Legolas couldn't tear his eyes from Saruman's dark, black pits. He knew he was crying. He could feel the tears. He could feel Saruman's delight at his terror. It radiated from the Istar, like the elven glow that Legolas had long since lost.  
  
Saruman yanked Legolas upwards by his hair in one swift movement. He let ago, letting Legolas find his balance on his own. But the elf's mutilated legs refused to hold his light weight, and crumpled beneath him. Legolas winced as his body hit the floor.  
  
"Stand up, little elf," Saruman commanded.  
  
Where his tears came from, Legolas didn't know. He would have thought that he had no more left to cry. But still he felt the salty fluid poor from his terrified eyes. He braced himself against the wall, and painfully hauled himself to his feet, leaning against the stone heavily. Even that movement had caused his breath to become laboured.  
  
"Good, very good, elfling." Legolas shuddered at Saruman's pleased tone. The wizard approached Legolas slowly, but the elf backed away, his feet fumbling in panic. But Saruman came fast, and scratched Legolas across his face with his long, sharp fingernails. Four thin, yet painful strips of scarlet materialized on Legolas' face, and he clutched it with his one hand, using the other one to steady himself on the wall.  
  
"Don't try to run, little elf, it will only worsen things."  
  
Saruman reached to a nearby torch. A long iron rod had been resting there, absorbing the flame's heat. He brandished it, showing it to Legolas. The red metal reflected in the elf's blue orbs, wide in distress.  
  
"You know this weapon, don't you? You've experienced it before." Legolas stumbled backwards, and fell to the ground again. "Don't run, little elf, it will do you no good."  
  
Saruman searched the elf for his weaknesses. He laughed to himself. Every inch of his body holds a weakness, he thought. But he knew what would hurt. He knew what would make the elf scream.  
  
The wizard lunged at Legolas, and pressed the iron hard against his leg. All the crusted blood seemed to melt, and the skin underneath the iron sizzled and gave way deeper and deeper. The cuts scattered over his flesh spilt more blood. Legolas' body writhed on the ground, crying out in terrible misery.  
  
Suddenly, Saruman withdrew the iron. He had driven it deep into Legolas' flesh, so that now the bone was exposed.  
  
"You didn't like that, did you, elfling." Saruman listened to the elf's rapid, panicked breathe. "You should be stronger."  
  
He swung the iron down and struck Legolas' exposed bone hard. A long, icy scream erupted from Legolas' mouth. As the iron remained there, burning away at his leg, he cried all over again.  
  
"My, you are weak, little prince."  
  
"No, no, please, just get it off, NO! GET IT OFF OF ME!" he sobbed. Legolas' arms flailed at the long iron rod, trying to pull it away, but Saruman only pressed harder as he struggled. Suddenly, he brandished it above his head again, and struck Legolas in the same place. The elf cried out terribly as he heard the bone crack.  
  
All of a sudden, a great light flared up. Legolas' leggings had caught fire. Saruman withdrew his weapon, and stood idly by as Legolas batted at the flame with his bare hands, trying desperately to put it out as his tears evaporated in the heat and his sobbing and wailing was lost in the Istar's laughter.  
  
An orc appeared at Saruman's side. It stood laughing in mirth for a while as it stared at Legolas' agony. Saruman turned to him. "What is it now?"  
  
"Two elves have been spotted running towards Orthanc," the orc replied, still grinning.  
  
Saruman grinned. He glanced over to Legolas, who had now put out the fire and was nursing his badly burnt leg and blistered hands. "I will come and greet them personally."  
  
Legolas looked upwards, only hearing Saruman's last quote. Saruman looked down in false sympathy. "Poor little elf, you are so, so scared." He kicked Legolas in the stomach, winding him. He doubled over. "I'll be back for you." The wizard followed the orc away.  
  
Legolas slid to the ground. "Elbereth save me!" he cried out. He found he couldn't cry any more tears, but still he felt his heart sinking; drowning.  
  
"Why didn't you fight back?"  
  
Legolas clenched his fists, and winced at the pressure on the blisters. How could that be all she could say? He wanted to scream at her, he wanted to knock sense into her, but he wouldn't. He couldn't.  
  
"Why are you so heartless?" he sighed. "Do you care for nothing? How do you not feel?"  
  
Nifien sighed. A moment of silence elapsed. For a while Legolas thought she wasn't going to say anything. "When a was just a child, I was taken by orcs. I was brought here. I went through everything imaginable, but I escaped. My parents, my friends all turned on me. They wouldn't accept me again. They said they couldn't trust me anymore, and that I was too different. That was long, long, long ago. Ever since I've wandered this world, alone. I have been through things you'll never know. I've seen things that were never meant for any living thing to set eyes on. Over time, it hardens one's heart to the point of ice." Legolas only then heard her sniff quietly. She was crying. "And for that, I have always hated myself."  
  
Silence. Silence in exhaustion and disbelief.  
  
"I'm sorry, Nifien, I . . ."  
  
"No, that's alright. It feels good to have someone to talk to." The chains that suspended Nifien's arms above her head clattered as she shifted her weight. "When I first saw you, I really, really wanted to help you, but my mind closed those thoughts away, and I became the cold hearted girl I've always been. But I also realized that you are strong." Legolas raised his eyes to meet hers, confused. "I saw others fall. I saw others break; others give up and let death overcome them. But you don't."  
  
Legolas smiled in the dark. If he could believe that, he would. If he were not so broken already, he would have believed in what was true. Some part of him knew Nifien was telling the truth. But to know is not to believe; to believe is to know.  
  
Saruman watched the two from afar. He frowned at how Legolas' mind had been distracted from his pain. He muttered some ancient words, walked close to Legolas. Legolas didn't move or notice. Saruman smiled. He muttered some more words and waved his staff.  
  
Suddenly Legolas cried out, and clutched his burnt leg. It was as if the fire had started all over again, eating away at his flesh. Tears of pain welled up in his eyes uncontrollably. But there was nothing he could do to stop the burning. He brought his other leg to his chest and rocked back and forth.  
  
* * *  
  
"You've returned sooner than I had expected you, Thranduil." Saruman greeted Haldir and the elf-lord. "Have you reconsidered my offer?"  
  
Thranduil glared daggers at Saruman. "No," he stated flatly. "But I have an offer to make you."  
  
Saruman cocked an eyebrow in interest. "Oh?" He turned and began to walk away, the others following. "Tell me."  
  
Thranduil took a deep breath. Even Haldir was listening intently. He hadn't yet heard what the elf-lord had planned.  
  
But, before he could speak, they began to descend a steep and winding staircase. "Wait, tell me when we reach the bottom," said Saruman.  
  
* * *  
  
Black spots danced in Legolas' vision, and shadow crept into the corners of his eyes. But he struggled against the darkness and stayed awake. Nifien was singing softly to him, and he gradually recognized the tune, and his raspy voice joined the melody.  
  
* * *  
  
Lost in memories  
  
Forgotten things wander  
  
Where angels have settled  
  
And ghosts gone yonder  
  
Soft notes of faint song drifted up the steep stairs. Thranduil's sharp ears picked up the words, but he couldn't identify the voices.  
  
Petals of roses  
  
Died in the frost  
  
Litter the roads  
  
The forgotten of crossed  
  
Lower and lower they descended. Now Thranduil could make out a male and female voice.  
  
The sky is light  
  
In the east of this place  
  
Western, t'is dark  
  
Stars, moons embrace  
  
Legolas was singing. It was a song he had taught his son, and his father had taught him.  
  
Dragons and elves  
  
At peace with all other  
  
Water and fire  
  
Equal each other  
  
Suddenly, Legolas cried out. Saruman had silently used his spell on his burns again. But after a slight pause, both he and the female continued their song, though the sound was quieter and weaker.  
  
Victims of death  
  
Loveless, alone  
  
Claimed this land  
  
Of memory home  
  
Finally they reached the end of the staircase. Haldir gasped at the sight of Legolas' burnt and spoiled legs. This was not merely injuring, this was maiming. There was also another, shackled in chains. A she-elf.  
  
Thranduil blocked all emotion from his mind and face. He had to be strong, now more than ever. Saruman turned to face the elf-lord.  
  
"Here is your son." He indicated to Legolas. "I have cast a spell so that neither he nor his friend can see or hear us. That way the decision cannot become biased again."  
  
Haldir raged inwardly. What did he mean, biased? Without Legolas' voice? Without him even knowing? That was what was biased.  
  
Thranduil spoke. "Will you take my life for their freedom?"  
  
Saruman looked interested. "You have an intriguing proposal. But tell me, what good would it do?"  
  
Thranduil hated to say this, but he had to convince Saruman, or his son would never see the light of the stars again. "My kingdom has long since been under my command. All my sons are off on errands, and there would be none to govern in my place. My realm would become weak without my rule."  
  
Saruman nodded thoughtfully. What he had said was true, it would weaken Mirkwood. Thranduil's realm would be easier to take in all the confusion. "Very well."  
  
"You must set free both of them. The she-elf and Legolas."  
  
"I know, I know. The girl is of no worth to me, take her along with your precious son."  
  
Thranduil turned to face Haldir. Horror was written all over his friend's face, horror and confusion. "Listen to me, Haldir." Haldir nodded. "Take them back to Lothlorien and get them help. Make sure all is done to aid their wounds. Tell Legolas that I love him. Send word to my other sons. And make sure it is known that it is not Legolas' fault." He said this last part with extra force. "Both he and his brothers need to know that."  
  
Thranduil sighed. Haldir's face hadn't changed, but he nodded in bleak understanding. The elf-lord smiled down at his friend. "Don't worry, Haldir. I've lived in this world long enough. Legolas still has a life to be lived."  
  
The two held each other's gaze for what felt like forever. A silent conversation seemed to take place within their eyes. Promises were made, memories relived, apologies made and accepted.  
  
Saruman's two hands placed themselves on either side of Thranduil's head. The elves didn't look away from each other. Saruman tilted Thranduil's head to the side, and snapped his neck.  
  
Haldir fought back a cry, struggled against his own tears.  
  
"Now, go and get your prince, retrieve your elf maiden. I don't want to ever see them again." Disgust lined Saruman's words. Haldir tore his eyes from his friend's body, and ran over to Legolas.  
  
"Legolas, Legolas, can you hear me?" he whispered frantically. Legolas rolled his head upwards, but his eyelids were drooping, and he didn't seem to understand what was happening.  
  
Nifien suddenly was standing behind Haldir, her wrists unchained. Haldir lifted Legolas' dangerously thin figure into his arms, trying his best not to agitate his wounds, but still provoking soft moans and cries from the elf. He turned to Nifien, sorrow lingering in his eyes, glistening with unshed tears.  
  
"Follow me," he choked out.  
  
He raced past Saruman, following the path they had come. He broke into the sunlight, and squinted against the sudden contrast in brightness from the dreary dungeons. Tears blurred his vision as he starred down at the now unconscious Legolas. He felt the she-elf's presence close behind him.  
  
Now he could cry. Salty, bitter tears rolled from his eyes, flying behind him. He wept, and wept, for as long as they ran, it all became a blur. But he starred down at Legolas' frail, maimed figure. Bruises and cuts across his face, his chest and torso decorated with healing scars, and his legs devastatingly, cruelly mutilated. But somehow, the elf remained beautiful and fair in all his suffering; and that seemed to bring on more tears. How could this happen to so innocent and fair a being?  
  
"Namarie, Thranduil," he sobbed amidst the ramblings of thoughts racing through his mind. Unconsciously, his pace quickened as Lothlorien came into view, just as the sun began to descend and twilight began to fall.  
  
The sky grew red on the horizon. Deep, deep shades of crimson and scarlet, as a sign of the blood spilt that day. Then the world passed into night, and the trees of Lothlorien welcomed the runners back into the long, and welcoming safety in their shadows.  
  
* * *  
  
Yay, I had the best birthday! I got a big Legolas poster, a couple cards with Legolas on them, and a book: The Languages of Tolkien's Middle Earth. So hopefully I can start incorporating elvish in there. Also I now have 4 empty notebooks.I think my friends really want me to start writing something.  
  
The song was my own original work, an old poem I discovered. All the songs on here are. On with the reviews! Huge thanks to melissa greenleaf, little- lost-one!  
  
Ankesanamun: Dude, your name's hard to spell. But really, the prospect of him singing scares you? Hm. Cuz in the books, that's basically all he does! Sing and be hyper! And run around on snow while shooting arrows at things!  
  
Erhothwen: Whoa, multilingual! I wonder what happy birthday is in elvish . . .  
  
Lady of Dreams: I get all the spoilers for movies from my friend. And yes, that was a bit of a transition chapter. I really wasn't in the mood for writing too much misery, and going too deep, but I knew I had to update. And yes, political cartoons suck.  
  
Merrylyn: It's the all-seeing reviewer! Good foresight. And reviews do help me when I'm blue, so you DID return the favour, be happy! *starts singing * Don't worry, be happy! Dooooooo do do do do do . . . .  
  
Elven-fae: I think I read your fic after getting this review..I'm a bit forgetful, so go ahead and bite me if I didn't review or anything, but I believe I did. And cakes are good. Yummy.  
  
Lady of the Forest: COOL BIRTHDAY GIFT! *snoopy dance * I love you!  
  
Legolasluver: Hm, set on world domination, are you? We can convert them all to sadists and everyone can have pointy ears and wear cloaks and have long beautiful hair and HAVE COOL KNIVES AND BOWS AND ARROWS AND *rants on for 40 years *  
  
Princess-yumin: Dude, if you thought the last chapter was bad, I wonder what's going through your head now . . . And no worries, no review is pointless. Hope you feel better and get out of your slump, and that life lightens its load! Life is a fickle thing. They all say rough times only make us stronger. What they don't say is the strength it takes to get through them in the first place. Have hope, and damn the work loads! Beat textbooks with a stick!  
  
Kate: Dude, it's like the conspiracy of the cookies! People keep giving me cookies; I even got a birthday card with Snoopy dancing with cookies in his arms! Are you trying to fatten me up? ARE YOU? *Gets really really insane * Okay, back to normal . . .erm . . .you know what I mean. But yes, I get complaints for being on the computer/internet too long. It's a fact of life.  
  
The Dark Rogue: Once again, almost typed rouge. I have a problem with that. Hm, the Autobiography of Legolas Greenleaf, you say? Interesting! Enough excitement for you? Don't want you people getting bored! You can post my fic on your website, as long as you give me the full credit and mention that I wrote it and everything. Thanks for asking permission first. And don't allow anyone else to take it!  
  
Lia Strife: Okay, first of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Everyone wish Lia Strife a happy birthday! We love you!  
  
That's all for now! See you next time! I must go mope now because series finale of Buffy is tomorrow.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	19. Dreaming

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! Only original characters.  
  
A/N: OMG, I'm so sorry for the wait! But it took me a long time to think up the first part here. And I'm not particularly happy with the beginning of this chapter, but it was high time to update. Elvish translations are at the bottom author's note.  
  
FOR ALL HARRY POTTER FANS! My good friend has just got an account on fanficion. Her penname is Katinka Inga Banenenenenea. Or something of the sort. You'll know it when you see it. She has one Harry Potter angst fic up, the main character Lucius Malfoy, and I think it's a pretty good story line. If you have time, read it! It's called The Waning of the Moon, I think. Go and read! She's pretty good!  
  
ON WITH THE STORY!  
  
* * *  
  
Someone was reaching to him; he couldn't see whom, his vision was clouded with shrouds of darkness. He shrunk away from the touch. It was warm, not menacing and cruel, but still he cowered from it. He couldn't trust anything anymore.  
  
Suddenly, he felt strong arms wrap around his body, and he heard himself cry out tiredly as the touch agitated his fresh wounds. Little by little, he could feel his spirit becoming more and more detached from his scarred body. He wanted to fight those arms, he wanted to make them let go; he didn't want to ever be hurt or touched again. But he couldn't move, he couldn't. His arms hung limp and useless at his sides, his neck lolling his head to the side. His eyes were closed, but he could see himself. In some unfamiliar, deranged sense of dreaming, he could see himself. But that was all. He who carried him remained anonymous, and he wouldn't remind himself of where he was; because he knew he was still there, though he couldn't see. He just . . .knew it.  
  
Without warning, the arms failed beneath his body, and he tumbled from their hold.  
  
He clamped shut his eyes, and braced himself for the landing. But none came. Air rushed past him, blowing his hair into his face, and still he waited, tense and anxious. But still he fell, tumbling in space without a purpose. Slowly, he opened his eyes.  
  
His body hit the ground with breaking force. He cried out brokenly in surprise, and remained curled into a defensive ball for a moment, tensely awaiting something else to happen.  
  
Nothing did.  
  
Legolas rose to his feet with surprising grace, grace that he knew he had long since lost. He moved tall and soundlessly. None of his wounds bothered him, though still they remained scattered over his body. The land surrounding him was wide and barren, with nothing but rotting corpses of trees and unproductive grey soil. The air smelled of death, and it wrapped around him like a blanket trying to suffocate him. He shivered as a ghost of a breeze played with his golden hair, which had regained its glow and shimmer.  
  
A dim light appeared on the horizon. The sun, Legolas thought vaguely. He started to run towards it. Why, if indeed it were the sun, would he try to run to it? But this was a dream. This wasn't real. So perhaps he could reach the sun and bathe in its light and its haven from the darkness that had been devouring him for what seemed like an unbearably long time.  
  
Light crept onto his feet, slinking up his legs, his torso, his chest, spreading over his shoulders, climbing his neck; and it blessed his face, shining over his fair, golden features. He laughed in true joy for the first time in far too long, and he smiled at the memory of happiness; and he didn't want it to leave him. Laughter rolled from his mouth, his eyes squinting shut in delight, and he kept running, venturing farther and farther into the light, escaping the menacing darkness behind him.  
  
But all good things seem to never linger long, do they.  
  
The ground before him opened, like a great, cavernous mouth, wanting to devour the fair creature above it. A slight cry escaped him in surprise. The giant fissure reached his feet, and he was thrown off balance. His arms waved wildly at his sides, trying desperately to regain his footing. But the gap widened, spreading beyond him, and the earth trembled viciously. One great jolt of the earth threw him from his feet, tossing him into the great fissure.  
  
His mouth open in a silent scream, the ever-widening walls of the ground rushed past him.  
  
Suddenly, his tunic snagged on something. His plummet came to an abrupt halt. Warily, he twisted his neck to see what had caught him. His mouth dropped open in wordless horror.  
  
One long, spindly hand protruded from the side of the sheer cliff, clinging to his tunic, groping, fingering the material blindly. The skin on it was decaying, clinging to the thin muscle and raw bone; like that of something dead.  
  
Without warning, the rotting hand released its hold, and he was falling again, his arms and legs flailing madly about him.  
  
He saw the ground come into view, rushing far too quickly to meet him. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the collision. His body crashed into the ground violently, shaking his senses, and he clearly heard a rib crack.  
  
Softly he groaned, and lay motionless on the ground, groping desperately at the dirt, not wanting to fall again. He was suddenly aware of the injuries covering his frail body, and they flamed up in roaring pain that shook his fragile frame. Tears brimmed in his eyes. This was far, far too real for a dream.  
  
A soft sound disturbed his silence. He lifted his head. The dark circles around his dim, despairing eyes were back, his golden hair dull and limp, matted with his own blood and now with dirt. He found his tunic gone and his leggings torn.  
  
Dirt was quietly shifting in several spots around him. With his good hand he tried to push himself away, shrinking back towards the sheer cliff wall. He looked up towards where the sky had been blue before. It was so far away now . . . And it was black, shrouded with dark, threatening thunderclouds.  
  
Unexpectedly, Legolas felt himself yanked down to the earth. Another rotting hand clung to his wrist with inhuman strength. Everywhere they were rising from the ground, groping blindly at him, pulling him like a game of tug-o-war. One thrust itself at his burned leg, and he yelped at the force with which it grasped the fresh wounds. Another squeezed his jaw. More and more unearthed themselves, each trying to take him as their own. But they were all pulling downwards, into the earth.  
  
He struggled as much as the restraining holds could allow, but their strength was mysteriously strong and cruel, bruising his face, breaking the skin and drawing blood. His shoulder began to dig into the ground, pushing aside the dirt. He was sinking. Slowly, slowly, being pulled down, beneath the earth.  
  
Suddenly he was pulled through, and he was caught in strong arms. He peered shyly up at the face of who had caught him; he gaped in astonishment. Half the face was real, untainted . . .normal to say the least. But the other half was dead, like its hand that had pulled him into his arms. Yet it was more than that that made him gawk in silent and terrifying awe. He who held him was not merely any old corpse.  
  
It was Haldir.  
  
But it couldn't have been. For he had not the kindness in his eyes, not the friendly touch or smile. But an angry scowl, a sly glint in dark, dark eyes. Yet it was, there was no denying it. And there were others . . .Elladen, Elrohir, Aragorn . . .they were all there, all rotting, all . . .dead . . .  
  
"Dear, dear, little elf . . ." The corpse that was Haldir shook his head. The others were watching with cruel delight on their decaying faces. His voice rasped, as if his throat was torn, with an underlying tint of malice. "What, oh what, have you done now . . ."  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir dabbed gently add Legolas' sweating brow. The elf's sleep had not been gentle. He had cried out and struggled much . . .far too often for Haldir's comfort. But life still flowed in his veins, even if so very frailly.  
  
Several skilled Lothlorien healers were attending to Legolas' injuries. They worked in silence, each pondering their own thoughts and their own pities. Haldir could do little, for he had been taught not in the ways of the healer, but in the ways of the warrior. But he refused to leave, lest his friend awake.  
  
Suddenly Legolas brought his knees close to his chest, and rolled to the side. Haldir caught him from falling off the soft, cotton bed, and lifted him gently back up. "(1)Le nwalme na tel, Legolas, este si, " Haldir whispered gently. The healers remained silent, working diligently as they could on the fallen prince.  
  
Haldir blanketed Legolas' quivering shoulders, hoping it was just the cold, praying it was nothing else. He stroked his golden hair, trying to get rid of the crusted blood. Just then he noticed a dark bruise on his cheek that he hadn't seen before. There were others, too . . .on his arms and on his legs, and another on his other cheek. All just coming to his notice now. The healers seemed to see them too.  
  
"Were those there before, Cerefin?"  
  
The young healer looked over at Haldir. "The bruises? No, I did not see them."  
  
A frown crossed over Haldir's face. He was certain they hadn't been there before. He glanced at Legolas' face, and saw him stirring. In a moment he was standing over his friend, dabbing again at his brow.  
  
Legolas' eyes opened wearily. But the moment he saw Haldir's worried face, he shot up, grasping the elf's shoulder with far more strength than he should have had. Terror shone in his eyes like nothing Haldir had seen before, his voice trembling and desperate.  
  
"(2)Haldir, ped tenn' nin! Ped Im cui! Im undulavesse nin agar, ped Im firn, ped Im echui! Haldir, Haldir, ai, Elbereth, ped tenn' nin!" His voice was rough and terrible to hear through the terror and pleading he spoke with.  
  
Haldir held back his own tears at what his friend said. "Legolas, lye nwalme na tel, este," he said gently.  
  
An unbelievable look of relief crossed Legolas' features, as he let his head fall back and his hold on Haldir's shoulder release. The cruel injuries ailing him returned full-blown in shockwaves of agony. He gritted his teeth and felt his eyes burning.  
  
"Legolas . . . don't cry . . ."  
  
Legolas looked upwards at Haldir in question.  
  
"You're crying . . ."  
  
Through gritted teeth, and a barely audible voice escaping a quivering and broken body, the elf prince responded.  
  
"You are too."  
  
* * *  
  
FINALLY DONE! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! A bit short, I know, but I figured it took me long enough. Plus, a good spot to leave off, no?  
  
Okay, so my elvish is kind of rusty, and please forgive me and alert me of any mistakes I've made. The translations are kind of loosely done too. Here's the translations: Your torment is ended, Legolas, rest now.  
  
(Haldir, speak to me! Say I live! I'm drowning in my blood, say I'm dead, say I'm awakening! Haldir, Haldir, ai, Elbereth, speak to me!)  
  
Legolas, your torment is ended, rest.  
  
So, yes, that's how things turned out. Still working on the elvish though. I was hesitant to add it in, but I thought it might add something.  
  
The Dark Rouge: Okay, finally wrote the dark rouge. Heh.  
  
Merrylyn: I know that last chapter was bad. I was overcome by superior evilness.  
  
Kate: I will tell you again. Not a romance. Will not be a romance. Because I suck at writing romance. No need to worry on that part. And cookies are good! Yummy!  
  
Sirithiel: Don't worry, not a romance.  
  
Legolasluver: You watch Buffy too! Yay! SPIKE EXPLODED! AUG! MUST KILL SOMETHING! Good, good, pass down the art of world-destruction to the young ones. Mwaha.  
  
Angel of Death: Yes, I'm gonna make Leggy have a younger brother. Or older. Haven't quite decided on age yet. Hm, still hate Nifien? I'll have to come up with something to make you feel sad for her.  
  
Ankhesanamun: Okay, I can now spell your name. Yay! I've been working on it!  
  
Little-lost-one: Sorry to kill your father. But a sadist's gotta do what a sadist's gotta do, no?  
  
Melissa greenleaf: Three people have identified him as dead: Haldir, Saruman, and . . .erm.ELBERETH!  
  
Lady of the Forest: Oh, good I made you flinch! Happy days!  
  
Goma-Ryu: Yes, yes, his stubbornness is good! And so cute! Hehe.  
  
White Wolf: Very, very fragile, let me tell you. Mwaha.  
  
Sondol Undomiel: Been through enough? Already? *thinks * Of course not!  
  
Lirenel: I'm sorry to do that to you! But character death is a must in my stories! Especially favourite-characters' death! Heh.  
  
Okay, really sorry if I forgot anyone! I didn't mean to! And I must thank you all for reviewing! I really never did expect this many reviews! But . . .review again! Yes! Again! Heh. I know those were bad responses, but I really wanna update before I go to bed.  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	20. Finding Comfort

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! BUT LEGOLAS IS MINE! BUT HE'S NOT! BUT . . .okay, I shut up now . .  
  
A/N: HI! OMG, I'M SO FRIGGIN SORRY FOR THE WAIT! But I couldn't quite figure out what to do with this chapter, then I was at Nanaimo this weekend doing a walk/run thing for ALS (I ran 5km and walked the other 5km! Go me! *waves flag* ) Anyways. Here it is! Enjoy!  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas lay on the soft cotton bed, staring confused, yet content, up into the starlit sky. The stars brought new meaning to life, as they twinkled merrily down on him, welcoming him back into the world, and out of the darkened corners of his mind. But some shadows still lingered on in secretive silence, waiting to grow . . .and consume . . . and command.  
  
But now, the prince lay in peace, his mind out on the limbs of consciousness, on the fragile verge of sleep. Vaguely he wondered where Nifien was. Haldir had said she was safe too. But he avoided the subject of what had taken place. Legolas hadn't pressed the issue, too tired to argue. Since he had awoken in Lothlorien, things had been but a haze of consciousness and sleep, pain and numbness, tears and joy. Even now, he felt no need to ponder anything.  
  
For the first time in far too long, Legolas felt his mind slip into peaceful rest, and his eyes glassed over in the common way of the elves.  
  
A shadow moved in the corner. It saw the prince was asleep. With silent feet and golden hair that shimmered in the moonlight, Haldir made his way from the shadows, and passed through the trees in a blur of unnoticed melancholy. Tonight was his night to ponder and weep.  
  
* * *  
  
On the east border of the forest, there was a slight rise in the land, which dropped off where the trees diminished. Especially with elven eyes, it seemed you could see the entire world from the point of that cliff. Often Haldir had gone there to reflect, and in times of trouble to find peace.  
  
He emerged from the shadow-ridden forest, and came to an abrupt halt. There was another on his cliff; another elf.  
  
"My lord . . ."  
  
"Some part of my knew you would be here too, Haldir." Celeborn spoke without turning around. "Come, Haldir. Now we are elf and elf, not lord and warrior."  
  
Haldir sat himself beside Celeborn, his gaze following the elf lord's off into the distant horizon.  
  
"Thranduil was a good friend of mine," sighed the elf-lord. Haldir winced as flashes of the past flooded his head. "His heart-and his pride- were unmatched. I never knew an elf whose love for their world and for their life ran so deep."  
  
"He loved his sons more than the stars love the moon," Haldir said softly.  
  
"Aye, that he did." Silence hung between the two for a moment. "Legolas will need to know what happened, you know."  
  
Haldir sighed heavily. "I know."  
  
Celeborn looked over to the distressed elf. "You do not have to be the one to tell him, you know."  
  
"I know. But I want to. It would be better to hear it from a friend."  
  
They lapsed into silence again. It was impossible for Haldir to shake that last image of Thranduil from his mind . . . just staring into open space, his blue eyes empty, but with that painful, inevitable joy in knowing that his son was safe . . .the silence of his breathe, the stillness of his chest. He had seen many battles, seen many an elf be stuck down in combat. But there was something about the casualty with which Saruman took the elf's life, about the nobility that led him to his own death. It crushed him; shattered him; burned him to remember, but he still did it.  
  
He looked across at Celeborn. Light of the hiding sun glittered off the elf-lord's face, reflecting in . . . in what Haldir realized were tear streaks. He turned back to face the horizon, and in the comfort of company, let his own tears flow.  
  
"Somehow all that it good and pure must come to an end."  
  
Celeborn's mutterings were swept away in an early morning breeze, as the sun began to peek over the edge of the world. The clouds flooded with red light, mourning a life. But at the same time light crept back into the shadowed corners of the world, bringing new hope to those who are lost and inspiring courage in those who are dismayed.  
  
In an unspoken decision, the two rose, and turned to return to their home. Before entering the woods again, Haldir paused. He looked back at the bright, rising sun.  
  
"Yet dark as the days seem, they say there is always hope . . .even if we cannot see it."  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas awoke startled in a cold sweat. He shot bolt upright in his bed, his eyes wide, his breathing short and panicked.  
  
"Legolas, Legolas!" Haldir was immediately at his friend's side, his hands on his shoulders. "You're safe. There is nothing here that can hurt you."  
  
Relief flooded the prince's features, as he let his head drop back onto the pillow.  
  
  
  
Haldir seated himself beside Legolas on the bed. "Was it a dream?"  
  
Legolas nodded quietly, his eyes closed.  
  
  
  
"Can you tell me about it?"  
  
  
  
He hesitated, and nodded, almost unnoticeably so. "I dreamt of Mithrandir," he began. His voice was so quiet that only keen elven ears could hear it, and only a well trained friend could hear that masked trembling fear. "He came to me . . .only he wasn't Mithrandir." Haldir waited patiently for Legolas to continue. "It was the body of Mithrandir. Mangled, broken, bleeding . . .his limbs bent at odd angles . . .his eyes dull of life, glassed over with death . . ."  
  
  
  
"And he said . . .he said that I would pay for my actions. That I would pay for killing him."  
  
"You didn't kill him!" Haldir jumped in frantically.  
  
"I know!" Legolas cried back. His voice became quiet again. "I know that. I know it as a fact. But ai, how hard it is to believe with dreams like that . . ." He trembled on the verge of tears.  
  
  
  
"But you know you didn't. It is plain and clear that no one did! You cannot blame anyone, including yourself!"  
  
"Ai, Haldir. I know!" Haldir softened, he felt his heart crumble, at the hopelessness and the despaired whisper that escaped Legolas' lips. "But to know is not to believe . . .to believe is to know."  
  
Silence hung uncomfortably between them for a moment. Legolas turned his head and looked into Haldir's eyes.  
  
"Please, Haldir, I don't need pity."  
  
Haldir averted his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. Neither spoke for a while.  
  
"Haldir, where is my father?" Legolas asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I have not seen nor heard of him yet. He would have stayed here a while, I know."  
Haldir drew in a deep breath. Averting his eyes from Legolas' inquiring orbs, he chose his words carefully. "The night we returned from Orthanc . . ." He stopped. He was going about this the wrong way. He started over. "Your father loved you so much, Legolas."  
  
Legolas smiled fondly, then paused. His smiled descended to a frown. "Loved . . .?"  
  
Haldir stared at his hands. There was no way he could look at Legolas now. "He loved you so much, he was willing to give his life for you."  
  
Legolas lifted his body to a sitting position. "What . . .say what you are trying to say Haldir."  
  
"Legolas . . ." Haldir sighed. "That night, your father returned to Orthanc at night, and willingly gave Saruman his life so that you and Nifien could be free." Silence was his response. "I never knew a more noble elf."  
  
Haldir risked a glance at Legolas' astonished face, and found himself unable to look away from such immense pain.  
  
"No . . .no, how do you know this? That can't be what happened, I saw no one, I heard no one! You are wrong! Do not lie to me, Haldir!"  
  
"Nay, Legolas." His voice was gentle. "I would not lie to you. I was good friends with Thranduil as well. Saruman had cast a spell on you . . .or us . . .or one of the two, so that you could not see nor hear us, even though we could you."  
  
"Wait . . .us?"  
  
"I was there too. I was with Thranduil. I watched everything that happened. I carried you here and freed Nifien." Haldir scolded himself for letting emotion quaver in his voice. He should be strong.  
  
The elf looked into Legolas' eyes. Grief and disbelief unmatched by anything he had seen before hung in unshed tears, his eyes filled with a plea that this was all some big joke. And there was something else there that Haldir couldn't quite identify.  
  
But Legolas was watching Haldir too. And there must have been something there, for Legolas suddenly thrust himself at haldir and took him in a tight, unusually strong hug, yet desperate embrace. Haldir started slightly, but relaxed, and squeezed back.  
  
Legolas whispered in his ear: "I am so sorry, mellon nin. So sorry for what you have seen."  
  
That other thing in Legolas' eyes had been understanding.  
  
Haldir accepted his friend's pity.  
  
"You have no idea how hard it is to look into a dead person's eyes."  
  
They sat and cried there for a long, long time.  
  
~*~  
  
Celeborn looped his arm about his lover's slim waits. "He's been told. He knows now."  
  
Galadriel turned her tear-streaked face to her mate, and let him take her in his protective arms. "And so begins another journey for that same worn and weary soul."  
  
* * *  
  
HAHA! DONE! I did that last bit on the plane from Vancouver to Calgary. ^.^ Yay. Once again, majorly, majorly sorry for the huge delay! Yay. Took a bit of a different route. I saw no one using Celeborn in their stories, so I used him out of pity. And wow, so many reviews! I feel faint! Thank you guys so, so, so, so, so, so much! I really couldn't have gotten to chapter 20 without you! I love you all!  
  
Sondol Undomiel: Yes, this one was sadder than the other. Don't expect too much happy joyful fluff!  
  
FrodoFan: How can I forget you? Lol  
  
Erhothwen: They should do an awards show for LOTR, eh? Creepiest nightmare award. Nicest eyes award . . .  
  
Merrylyn: Yup! He can still reach him! Mwaha. I have plans. I'm obsessed with dreams now that we're doing a unit on sleep in health (seriously, how screwy is that? A unit on sleep and we can't even nap in that class!).  
  
Dark Rouge: I've officially given up typing rogue.  
  
White Wolf: You like the hands, eh? *plots in a corner doing the Mr Burns thing *  
  
Kate: Are you going to send your muses after me? I wouldn't blame you if you did. But I must warn you, I have a vicious and extremely good soccer- playing corgi to protect me!  
  
Darkangle: My my, it's you! I'm astonished you're even reading this!  
  
Katinka Inga Boganananana: Write romance, damnit.  
  
Sweet-n-sour-slytherin: Yeah. Spike reminds me of the confused Leggy in all the fics I read. I wuv them both. *dreamy sigh * EVIL! THEY MADE SPIKE EXPLODE! *runs after josh whedon with knife, and also cannot spell properly * Haldir rules, yes!  
  
Angel of Death: Sorry about the chapters being transitions lately. Hopefully plot will kick up again. *glares at elf muses * *muses cower * Don't worry, I understand how you feel about Nifien. She just bugs you and you're not sure why. I feel the same way with the movie version Faramir.  
  
Nenwe: I can't believe I killed him either! My fingers typing my fic are kind of detached from any rational part of my heart or brain. I become a zombie when I write. If I could feel, I wouldn't have written that. And am I TOO evil, you ask? Mwahahahahahaha . . .  
  
Lirenel: You read my mind! Yes, it will be a younger brother.  
  
Princess-Yumin: Please don't faint. Don't go into denial. That screws us all up. And the Silmarillion rules, dude!  
  
Irish QT: Did you cry? I hope you did. . . .that sounded mean. But you know what I mean, right? I mean, it's a good thing if a writer can make one cry, right? So, I'm not being mean, if you see what I mean.  
  
GemGemJoo: YOU FINALLY GOT HERE! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YES! Anyways, luvz and kisses. 


	21. Hurting

Disclaimer: Tirdin, Vanamírë, and Nifien all belong to me! NOTHING ELSE!  
  
A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! But after all that homework I was talking about last time, there are finals, and there was studying, and I had a bit of a brain block for this chapter, and just everything! I also started writing my own original angsty fantasy, which is so bloody complicated it confuses me, but it's bound to be good. (But don't look for it on fictionpress. It is something I hope to get published someday and therefore am not posting it due to fear of plagiarism). But school ended today, and the summer is here! So hopefully the waits will not be so long! And I am sorry for the shortness, but I think I stopped at a good spot. Kind of a transition, foreshadowy chapter, but sure. Just be happy I posted at all!  
  
* * *  
  
"He knows now, does he?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
Celeborn sighed. "I don't know how he can stand everything that has happened to him."  
  
"He is unbelievably strong inside. But he is damaged . . .he will need to accept his weakness and accept help from others before he can win against everything."  
  
Celeborn grinned slightly. "He got that pride from his father."  
  
Reflective silence hung in the air for a moment. "How long will it take for his body to heal, do you think?"  
  
Celeborn thought for a moment. "I couldn't tell you for certain, I am not a healer. But it will take a longer time for his leg to recover." Haldir nodded in acknowledgement to this. "Has he spoken of any of the things he was put through?"  
  
Haldir shook his head. "No. And I do not wish to probe them out of him. He will speak of it when he is ready, but we cannot make him tell us sooner than that. That subject is especially sensitive. And I expect it was not only the physical things done to him, but it is what was put through his mind that shall ail him longest." Then he added almost like a thought to himself: " . . .And I fear it is his spirit that has suffered most, and yet still has most to endure."  
  
Celeborn placed his hand on Haldir's shoulder. "I see how much you care for and fear for Legolas. But I warn you not to let Legolas see that. His pride is something that has probably been broken in Saruman's presence, and that would injure him further."  
  
Haldir's shoulders slumped in quiet frustration. "I know."  
  
"But it is just your kind of care and love that shall be most crucial to his recovery. Do not despair on your friend, for I know that the times ahead will make us all feel a little betrayed and unappreciated. Do not be fooled by that. He needs you more than you or him realize."  
  
* * *  
  
Silent silver tears streamed down Legolas' face. He wanted so much to move, and run through the trees. Sorrow made him restless. In his days as a child, when his mother had died, he had stayed in the woods away from the palace for days, and it had calmed his grieving soul. Even if the palace was in the forest, it wasn't the same as actually sitting on a tree limb, or feeling the branches tug at you when you ran. When he was alone, he could hear the trees whisper, and he could mourn with them.  
  
But instead he was confined to this bed, and even if he dared to try and walk, or even stand, he knew he would collapse and only disturb his healing wounds.  
  
{Why did he have to die for me?}  
  
The bond between Legolas and Thranduil had always been one of the strongest known to elves. They were the other's best friends more than father and son. Each had something the other had not, and each fulfilled the other of that gap that always exists, that one never quite notices until it has been filled.  
  
{I was not - am not - worth that price.}  
  
When Legolas' mother, Vanamírë, passed away, even though Legolas had fled in grief, he had returned and he and Thranduil found comfort in each other, letting tears flow that neither would have allowed any other to see.  
  
{Why did he do that . . .?}  
  
Who would he cry to now?  
  
Legolas rolled to his side and stared out at the Lothlorien elves, chatting with each other, laughing, chasing each other playfully through the branches and undergrowth. Suddenly, this made him remember his brother.  
  
Tirdin, the younger one. The silent one. The watching one.  
  
They had always been so different. An agreement could rarely be made between the two, and neither had much interest in the other. Legolas would find company in the other young elves of Mirkwood. Now that he thought of it, he had never known if Tirdin had had any friends . . .he had never noticed him hanging around with anyone.  
  
A sudden wave of guilt passed over him. He turned back over and looked away from the frolicking elves.  
  
"Prince Legolas . . .?"  
  
Startled, Legolas quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. He raised himself with his hands and looked over at the {intruder} visitor.  
  
He felt himself slump, somewhere between relief and annoyance, as he saw whom it was. "Don't address me as that, Nifien," he sighed. "Just Legolas."  
  
"Okay." She was unusually quiet, he noted; her voice hushed and her eyes lowered. She made her way to Legolas' bedside, and sat delicately on the blanketed mattress.  
  
A moment of awkward silence passed between them.  
  
"Do you know about-"  
  
"Yes." Legolas' voice came harsher than he had intended.  
  
"I've never known that kind of love." Now Legolas noticed how near tears she was. "Not even seen it. I never thought it was possible for someone to love another that much. Not enough to die . . ."  
  
"Can we please not talk about this?"  
  
Nifien hung her head. "Sorry," she mumbled, and sat for a moment. Then she rose, and turned back the way she came. She muttered something that only Legolas' sharp ears could pick up.  
  
"I'm not that great with people. I haven't been around them much."  
  
He waited until she was well out of hearing range.  
  
Legolas slammed his face into his pillow and let out a long, stifled cry of stupendous frustration. He hugged the pillow closely to his face, shouting and yelling and crying and screaming at himself, pounding the pillow as if it were himself, pounding it ruthlessly and ripping it, tearing it with his nails.  
  
{WHY MUST I HURT EVERYONE I KNOW?!}  
  
* * *  
  
Okay, I am sorry if that last bit wasn't exactly Legolas-like, but you have to consider everything he's been through! His spirit is broken and he's so confused by everything that's going on. But yes. Oh, and Tirdin means silent watcher and Vanamírë means beautiful jewel.  
  
Lia Strife: And I salute you, as you are the only one who reviewed chapter 20! GO YOU!  
  
MORE PEOPLE PLEEEEEEEEEASE REVIEW! I LOVE YOU ALL! *whines and begs and pouts *  
  
Heh.  
  
But seriously . . .  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	22. Vinya Mirkwoodhir New Lord of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I own Tirdin, Vanamire, and Nifien, nothing more!  
  
Alright. I am so incredibly sorry for the wait, seriously, I am! But there were finals, and I was out with my friends every day of the finals until school ended, and there was Harry Potter (which I finished in 3 days. And J K Rowling sucks at death scenes. Would say/complain more, but I don't know who's read it or not), and then I was in a slump and had no clue what on earth to write before J dragged me out of it, then I was in ANOTHER slump, and then I had a bit of a personal issue nagging at me. So yeah. That is my excuse. ON WITH IT! It is very late so I cannot say any more.  
  
Alright. Most of it was written last night, so forgive me for any spelling or grammatical errors. And there is a lot of elvish in this one, but I've put the translations in brackets beside it for your sake. The elvish was REALLY annoying because there were no words for those that I wanted to use, so some sentences may sound kind of weird in translation, but whatever.  
  
* * *  
  
Glimmers of dawn were teasing the world with tiny glimpses over the horizon, when Legolas woke, alone, the cool morning air biting at his bare chest. The scorched flesh on his one leg stung dully as he recounted his dream.  
  
He had seen his father . . .his dead father . . .with his head cocked to the side at an odd angle, his eyes clouded over but wide in some unreadable expression, somewhere between pain and surprise. But what struck him most was that his father was smiling. Smiling a horrible, twisted grin that did not rid itself from his dark lips and pale face.  
  
He couldn't quite remember if his father had spoken, but suddenly everything was moving backwards, as if rewinding. Then it stopped, and played forward again.  
  
Arms stretched out . . .Legolas' arms, his own . . .his hands wrapped around Thranduil's neck, and with one sickening jerk and a crack, his hands, his hands snapped his own fathers neck.  
  
He had murdered his father.  
  
Then he had looked down in horror at his arms. They were becoming that same scorched texture of black, scalded flesh mingled with red blood and muscle tissue. All over his body, burning, burning, burning so badly he had not the strength the cry out. Long, deep cuts found their place on his body, his face slowly becoming one not his own. Before he knew it, he was changed. He was no longer Legolas the prince of Mirkwood.  
  
He was an orc.  
  
A filthy orc, a bloody thirsty goblin, a cruel, mindless, murderous, sadistic monster. That could not have been him, those thoughts . . .those thoughts of pain that seemed to come almost in . . .pleasure . . . No, there was no way that could have been him.  
  
But it was.  
  
And he remembered now what Saruman had told him. He had said that orcs were once elves. Like him. His own brethren. Whom he had battled and killed {Murdered!} over the thousands of solar years of his life.  
  
No, I can't go blaming myself again, he chided himself mentally. I didn't know.  
  
{So? If you didn't know that someone you saw sneaking around your house at night was your dearest friend, and you killed him, would that excuse you?}  
  
He didn't reply to his thoughts. But he knew that word lurking beneath the surface.  
  
{No.}  
  
He forced the issue aside. It did not deserve his dwelling mind as much as another. The image of Thranduil, with his snapped neck and dead eyes, and that lingering grin, sprung into his mind. Is that what had happened? Had Saruman {it was not Saruman, it was you, it was you!} just . . .just snatched the life from him? From that elf who had never shown a weakness, whom had never admitted to need or to emotion . . . .how could it have happened so easily?  
  
Only then did he hear the approaching footsteps.  
  
Hurriedly, he dried his eyes threatening to tear, and pushed himself up, moving himself so that his legs dangled over the side of the bed.  
  
"You're awake already?"  
  
"Aye. Dreams and dreams and dreams . . ."  
  
Haldir smiled kindly down at his friend, and sat next to him. It did not escape his notice Legolas' horribly slim frame, his ribs showing themselves plain and clearly through his scarred flesh. He had always had a smaller frame than most, but now it was painful to look upon.  
  
"I know it's early, but Celeborn sent me to discuss this with you." Legolas nodded, showing he understood, but not making eye contact. "You are the eldest prince of Mirkwood. It is handed to you, the responsibility of ruling your fathers realm."  
  
Legolas raised his eyes to Haldir's. The careful mask that seemed forever present on the prince's face was back in place, but there was a crack. Haldir saw that tiny glimmer of dread in his eyes.  
  
"Tirdin . . .does he know yet? What of my brother?" A hint of panic surfaced in his voice.  
  
"He arrived here last night. That's why I came to speak with you before he does." Legolas slumped back into a moping slouch. That guilt still hung like a great cloud over his heart. He dreaded now the encounter with his brother.  
  
"So these issues may be what he's come to discuss with you. He does know vaguely what happened."  
  
They lingered together a while longer, enjoying the company of each other in withdrawn silence. Suddenly Haldir stood. "I have some duties to attend to." He turned to Legolas, and looking him straight in the eye, kneeling so as to be level with him, asked seriously, "Are you going to be all right, mellon nin?"  
  
Legolas sighed. He shrugged helplessly. It was no use hiding himself from his friend. Besides, it took too much energy.  
  
Haldir placed his hand on Legolas' bony shoulder and gave a hard squeeze. "I'll return as soon as I can."  
  
"I'll be here."  
  
They smiled quietly, and Haldir departed. Another hour passed in lonely silence for Legolas, and he was just wondering where his brother could have gotten to, when his elven ears picked up soft footsteps approaching. He straightened himself, unusually nervous. He didn't have time to cover his damaged, but healing legs as a small silhouette appeared.  
  
"Mae govannen, vinya Mirkwoodhir (greetings, new lord of Mirkwood)," came a passive voice. An elf smaller in height than most elves made his way to Legolas. Ebony hair hung limply past his shoulders, down his common choice of crimson coloured robes. But what always struck Legolas was his eyes; his eyes, like ice, so hard and cold, pale blue ice of what Legolas always thought of as frozen tears, unshed for all his life. And they locked on Legolas', unfaltering and penetrating.  
  
"Havo dad, Tirdin (sit down, Tirdin)," Legolas said pleasantly enough, trying to ignore the title his brother had given him. It astounded him how different they both were. Legolas himself was the image of his father, and Tirdin like a twin to Vanamírë, their mother. Tirdin took a seat on a chair, pulling it closer to Legolas' bed.  
  
"Ped tenn' nin o le mor dagnir, Legolas (speak unto me of your dark bane, Legolas)"  
  
His voice was soft, and Legolas thought he saw a glimmer of genuine sympathy in Tirdin's eyes, but was preoccupied with the question. He shook his head, not sure how to say what was running through his head. How could he tell all he had gone through to this brother, whose face remained unchallenged by joy nor sorrow, and whose eyes remained frozen as a winter's river? It was hard to believe he even desired in the least to hear his story.  
  
"Túl si, ped tenn' nin (come now, speak unto me)." There was almost hurt there. Almost. But Legolas was sure he imagined it. How could his refusal hurt his indestructible brother, who had survived so much without as much as a tear?  
  
Legolas sighed and dropped his gaze. "Nin orë navar echuiro hinrín (my heart is unwilling to stir these remembrances)."  
  
Tirdin sighed. They sat in silence for a moment.  
  
Le baran Mirkwoodo, si (you are king of Mirkwood, now)," Tirdin said suddenly, with a cheer in his voice, evidently trying to lighten Legolas' mood. However, his small grin faltered when Legolas' features didn't move. "Man na hi nwalme edhel aiynin? Úi thalion edhel Im mel (Who is this tormented elf I behold? Not the dauntless elf I love)."  
  
Legolas nearly started at that. Love . . .? When had either of the brothers ever showed a kind gesture to the other, let alone one of love? Tirdin must have caught his surprise. He reached out, but paused before resting his hand on Legolas' knee, and instead found his arm. Legolas raised his eyes.  
  
Tears brimmed on Tirdin's eyes, that ice finally melting, finally letting flow those unshed tears, and Tirdin's common passive composure was cracked with an almost apologetic, hesitant grin. Something about seeing his little brother on the verge of tears startled him. Not in all of Legolas' life had he heard Tirdin speak with love, with sorrow, with anger. He had never wept, never showed his joy at anything around anyone. Suddenly seeing him with emotion brought a realization upon Legolas.  
  
He had always seen Tirdin as indestructible, the one that nothing could break, nothing could hurt . . .he had thought him to be, something like . . .inhuman. But now he realized his mistake.  
  
He reached out to Tirdin and pulled the smaller one close to him in a tight embrace. Tirdin tensed briefly at his sudden movement, but returned it with just as much desperate love as Legolas.  
  
"Le nant dolen ninello (you were hidden from me)," Legolas whispered.  
  
"Im non esgal si (I'm not hiding now)."  
  
Legolas felt tears in his eyes. Tears of relief. He had someone to cry to now. With this thought, he suddenly realized that though Tirdin had mentioned Legolas' new title of King of Mirkwood, he had never brought into the conversation the death of their father.  
  
"Imuva ped le nin nwalme si, vanwa er (I will tell you my torment now, lost one)."  
  
And for that time that his brother was there, he forgot his troubles. His heart was light, even as he spoke of the evil that had befallen him.  
  
" . . .They brought in another, then. A she-elf, called Nifien. Still she resides here. You should talk to her, Tirdin." Tirdin grinned, despite his horror at Legolas' tale. But Legolas continued on, wincing himself now and again, as he remembered beatings that he had since forgotten. By the time he had finished, it was high noon, and a servant arrived with a delicious looking meal for them both.  
  
While they ate, Tirdin could not help but notice Legolas' ravenous appetite, in addition to his bony frame. They starved him, he thought and felt his anger rise within him. They poisoned him, beat him, mocked him, starved him. He didn't say it out loud, but he could tell Saruman had struck Legolas' mind with his cruelty. Something was cutting Legolas deeper than knives and whips and flame could ever reach. The elf was not himself.  
  
The servant returned when they had finished and wordlessly took away their dishes. Legolas looked at Tirdin, his eyes meaningful, and finally beginning to regain their sparkle. "What of you, Tirdin?" When Tirdin looked at him questioningly, he continued. "What kept you from us all these long years, brother? I hardly know you."  
  
Tirdin drew in his breath. Thoughts, memories, raced through his mind, his heart suddenly quickening. His mind battled his heart, his mouth caught in the crossfire.  
  
"That is a story for another time," he compromised. He knew Legolas would be suspicious, but that didn't matter. "What of your new title, King Legolas?" he asked cheekily, changing the subject.  
  
Legolas sighed. "That is something I had no wish for, really. And besides, I still remain a part of the Fellowship. I feel it my duty to return to them."  
  
"But you will return to rule Mirkwood, will you not?" Tirdin could not hide his hope. He had always thought that Legolas would make a great ruler. The elves loved him, and for good reason.  
  
Again, Legolas sighed. "I do not know. I have never wished to be ruler. My heart belongs in the freedoms of life, not one of responsibility."  
  
"No, you never were one for that, were you." They laughed together, but awkward silence followed.  
  
"Tirdin . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Legolas hesitated. What if he denied . . .No, he had to ask him anyways.  
  
"What would you say," he spoke slowly, careful with his words, "if I asked you to rule in my place?"  
  
Legolas almost smiled at Tirdin's astonished expression.  
  
"I ask it as brothers, Tirdin. For I see in you one to lead our people of the darkness. You are strong, and strength is what Mirkwood needs now."  
  
Tirdin mouthed silent words, his eyes still wide in surprise. But he looked at Legolas, and saw in him that this was no jest. He saw real need, no disillusioned plea for release. With a deep breath, he replied.  
  
"As you wish, brother."  
  
Legolas laughed out loud then, and his mirthful voice echoed in the trees. It felt so good to laugh again! He had no laughed in so long, and now to laugh, and with his brother, mind you! He wondered in his heart at the ways of the world, how on moment he could be broken and dead inside, and the next laughing and loving everyone with new compassion.  
  
But there was always, always that voice in his head, telling him everything, telling him everything he wanted to forget.  
  
{I know why you pass this to your brother.}  
  
He listened to Tirdin telling of some misshapen maiden he had come across one day, smiling and laughing at all the right parts. But he was listening to his own voice too.  
  
{Because you killed Thranduil.}  
  
All signs of merriment vanished in an instant. Tirdin stopped his storytelling, confused by Legolas' sudden change of mood.  
  
{And you wouldn't want a murderer to rule a kingdom, would you.}  
  
"Legolas.?"  
  
"Please, I need some time alone now." Tirdin nodded, as if he understood. "I am sorry, but my heart is fickle now and turns on me when I am most relying on it."  
  
Tirdin stood, and embraced his brother ere he left. As soon as he was out of sight, Legolas' muscles tensed visibly. That voice was not his own.  
  
{Who are you?}  
  
{You know who I am. And I can tell you who you are.}  
  
{I know who I am.}  
  
{You're a murderer.}  
  
Legolas tensed more as the voice spoke, almost with glee.  
  
{Get out.}  
  
The voice laughed.  
  
{Make me.}  
  
* * *  
  
ALRIGHT! I BETTER GET A GOOD LOAD OF REVIEWS, BECAUSE THAT ELVISH STUFF TOOK ME FOREVER AND I AM VERY TIRED AND IT IS 11:15 AT NIGHT!  
  
*breath in, breath out *  
  
Okay, I'm done. That chapter turned out WAY differently than planned. I was going to make Tirdin all hostile, but yeah. Weird. Oh, and the responses to reviews may not be all they're cracked up to be.  
  
Angel of Death: Ah, liking Nifien better? Hm. I have more planned for her. ^.^  
  
Skye: Well, sorry if you still don't know much about Tirdin, but you will. I'll find a way. I've got him figured out. That's a start.  
  
GemGemJoo: Yes! Thank you for getting me out of the slump! THANK YOU!  
  
Goma-Ry Immortal Vampire: I still love him too. I mean, how can we not?  
  
Erhothwen: More angst on its way!  
  
Sweet-n-sour-slytherin: His brother is here. I'm only having one brother, too many characters screws me up.  
  
Lady of the Forest: You feel his pain? Wow, do I feel sorry for you! Heh  
  
Ankhesanamun: Beat em and eat em, that's the way to go, yup!  
  
Toby: Oh, far from the end, my friend! Far from it!  
  
Merrylyn: Chocolate always makes things better. Too bad my mom has started hiding the chocolate chips from me.  
  
Lia Strife: You are interesting. I thought you would like Tirdin. I think you'll like him more once I kind of remember myself and explain about his past and stuff.  
  
Nay: Screw you. I want a virgin margarita.  
  
That's it for now! GOOD NIGHT FOLKS! I will seriously try my hardest not to keep you delayed for so long any longer!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	23. Memories

Disclaimer: I own Tirdin, and the song. NOTHING ELSE!  
  
A/N: Wow, I guess I kept you waiting a while again, eh? Sorry! I was in another slump. I really had NO IDEA how to write this chapter, and how to work in what I wanted to work in. I pondered it for FOREVER, until I had one single idea, and so on that one idea I wrote the entire chapter as event and event sprouted from it. And I was busy with my original book I'm writing (don't go looking on fictionpress, I'm not posting in hopes of getting it published some day). I stopped mid sentence at one point, unable to think of a name for a forest. It took me 2 days to complete that sentence. So yeah. I'll shut up and let you read now.  
  
* * *  
  
Though the weather was not particularly pleasant, Legolas found this day to be one of the best he'd had in a while. For at last the healers had determined that he was well enough to walk. And even with a heavy limp, it relieved him to no end to be able to wander the forest again. He had chosen a fallen branch from the forest floor to support his weight, and though it bothered him greatly to have to use it, he'd rather wander the forest with his makeshift staff than suffer another long day of boredom in his bed.  
  
He wandered the wood, listening to the trees whisper. The sun had reached it's highest point in the sky, and was slowly, slowly descending, as Legolas came upon a ledge overlooking the rest of the world. Smiling, he sat down, and forsook his mind to the ramblings of the trees. As he listened, he sang to them. And though it was not a happy tune, the trees delighted to hear the prince's voice.  
  
Vanwa rinesse  
  
Egla coi raen  
  
Firn mari  
  
A firn cel hae  
  
Ril glor loth  
  
Firn ringesse  
  
Ar i tier  
  
I egla laini  
  
I vilya na ril  
  
Rhunesse hi sinomo  
  
Annun mor nayes  
  
Gwath badesse  
  
Naugrim a Edhil  
  
Dagnir ve mellon  
  
I thalion a engwa  
  
Lammoth hain lammen  
  
Tiethfirn mi  
  
Vanwa mel, er  
  
Maresse hi dor  
  
Rino hain bar  
  
And as his voice faded with the last note, he opened himself to sleep, and let himself fade into dreams.  
  
* * *  
  
Tirdin and Haldir had been wandering the woods as well, discussing Legolas' choice and Tirdin's new role as Lord of Mirkwood. The smaller ebony haired elf was incredibly nervous about returning home.  
  
"What will I tell them has happened, Haldir? How do I tell them so that they feel no blame towards Legolas, as I am certain some of them will?"  
  
Haldir admired the brother's protection of Legolas, and suddenly wished he knew his own brothers better. "You will tell them truth, Tirdin, as a good ruler should. Merely tell them what has taken place here, and no blame should fall upon Legolas, lest in senseless anger or sorrow for the loss; but even that shall pass."  
  
Tirdin sighed. "Perhaps. But I have not been raised to be a king."  
  
Haldir rested his hand on Tirdin's shoulder. "Do not be so nervous, little one. You will know what to do when the time comes. I think you are fretting more than the situation deserves."  
  
They walked a little longer in thoughtful silence. Perhaps Tirdin was overly anxious, but he couldn't help it. Thranduil had been greatly loved by the elves of Mirkwood, and few had ever gotten to know Tirdin. The younger brother had always preferred the company of silence, and had oft been teased as a child. Legolas and him had been so different, and rarely sought the other out. He had always been different. He thought things differently . . .perhaps in a more simplistic way; his thoughts were for worldly things, and somehow he could think of a way to solve those problems, and he was always certain that he could solve them and lead others into perfection.  
  
But now he was not so sure.  
  
The two were now on the borders of the forest, following the edge in a circle. Suddenly Haldir stopped, and Tirdin looked over to him in question. But Haldir suddenly ran ahead without explanation, fear shining in his eyes. Utterly confused, Tirdin took off after him, but it was only a short distance to run.  
  
They came upon a small ledge, overlooking a portion of the world. There was Legolas, curled on his side, hugging his knees close to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted together.  
  
"Legolas! Legolas!" Haldir ran to the elf's side, seizing his shoulders and shaking him lightly. He was asleep. "Wake up, Legolas! Wake up!" But Legolas only cried out, the cry that had first alerted Haldir's thoughtless ears of his presence, and shrank back. Haldir reached out again, but Legolas only hugged himself tighter, quietly, fearfully whimpering.  
  
Tirdin stood off to the side, his body frozen, unable to move, his eyes wide with a bright flame of terror burning. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, as he glimpsed Legolas' back and found his brother's silver tunic to be soaked in crimson blood.  
  
* * *  
  
CRACK!  
  
"Stop it, ai Elbereth, stop, stop!"  
  
CRACK!  
  
"Stop!"  
  
Legolas' sobbing cries echoed without effect in the cavernous chamber, his tears and screams disregarded. The whip came down again on his back, slashing his tunic and biting at his flesh, breaking the surface; the orc withdrew it and licked the scarlet blood from the leather. Another and another struck him over his shoulders, and he heard himself scream.  
  
He peered up into their taunting faces, their rotten teeth bared in cruel amusement. One caught his cheek and he shrank back with a startled cry, clutching his face with his hands, allowing them to be cut and slashed. He curled up on his side, and screamed as another blow crossed his back after the timeless, countless times he had felt the same motion. And he listened to his own voice scream in agony, and cringed at the sound, wondering at how he was still alive.  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir started as a thin scarlet line appeared on Legolas' smooth cheek, and then scores of them materializing on his hands. For a moment he stopped in his attempted to wake the prince, and gazed in confusion at the cuts. Then Legolas rolled over, crying out again, and Haldir backed away. Though the tunic remained undamaged, the back was soaked through with blood.  
  
Shaking himself out of his trance, Haldir grabbed Legolas and rattled him roughly, more urgent than ever, and yelled louder than before, "LEGOLAS!"  
  
Legolas' eyes snapped open, and he slumped forward, though trying to push himself back from Haldir and regain his own balance.  
  
"Legolas, Legolas, stop."  
  
He stopped and was still.  
  
"What happened?" Haldir's voice shook. He held Legolas at an arms length away, not allowing himself to release him. "What happened?"  
  
Legolas shook his head and looked down. "A memory . . . naught but a memory . . ."  
  
"No, Legolas." Haldir lifted his friend's hands, and Legolas gasped. "What is happening to you, Legolas?"  
  
Then Legolas began to tremble in fear as he stared at his beaten hands. His mind suddenly remembered more than he wished. Things that were said, things that were done, things he had seen . . .  
  
"I'm remembering, Haldir. Out of some sorcery I'm remembering."  
  
Haldir had to strain to hear his friend speak; and he knew that Legolas wanted nothing more than to forget everything . . .but Haldir wanted some things answered for him. Something haunted this elf. Through some cruel magic someone was hurting him.  
  
"Legolas, will you tell me what happened to you at Isengard?"  
  
With the slightest of movements, Legolas nodded. "When we get back. I will tell you." Then he looked at Tirdin, who still stood frozen in horror. "And you, brother. You shall know everything as well."  
  
Tirdin nodded. He watched as Haldir supported Legolas, and walked slowly behind them. He would have done something, but he couldn't. That had been too much for him. If that was merely one memory . . .Legolas had been there for days . . .what would the entire story be like?  
  
All the way back, Legolas listened for Tirdin to speak. But it did not disturb him that his brother was silent. All the time he had known Tirdin, he had spoken only when necessary. He suffered alone, and tearless, always in anger as far as Legolas could see. He often shunned the rest of the world, and kept to himself, his world cold and face emotionless. Legolas mused that he had always tried to be strong. And when things were too heavy for dry eyes, Legolas sometimes wouldn't see his brother for days at a time. Like when Vanamírë passed. And thus they had always remained distant.  
  
* * *  
  
"I won't speak of my capture, and only of my time as a prisoner," Legolas began. The other two were watching silently, and they nodded. Legolas drew in a long breath, and began. He spoke of his short time in the company of orcs, and then the arrival of Saruman and how he was brought to the dungeons of Isengard and shackled in cruel chains; he told of how the orcs had beat him, how they had whipped him, how they had burned him, over and over again. He recounted the arrival of Nifien and how he had then been transferred to a small cell. And he whispered of his thoughts, and of his despair, and of how he wished he would die. He whispered of the things Saruman had told him.  
  
But there was one thing he would not speak of, and that Haldir and Tirdin would never know.  
  
As his tale came to a close, Legolas fell silent and dropped his gaze. Haldir felt a single tear wash down his face, and hoped that neither of his company had noticed. Tirdin was silent, but never took his eyes from Legolas, as if waiting for him to say he was joking, that it was all just a lie.  
  
"Why does he still hunt you in your dreams?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I know not. He wanted my father removed from Mirkwood." His voice shrank. "His wish was fulfilled."  
  
None could think of anything to say; Haldir and Tirdin were confounded by the torment that had befallen Legolas, and Legolas wished the conversation to go no further. The memories hurt. He had been shamed in those dungeons, he had been broken. Things had happened he wished no one to know. And he desired no pity, no sympathy. He did not need it now.  
  
Soon Haldir and Tirdin departed with quiet words of farewell, and Legolas lay on his bandaged back, peering at the stars through the branches of the towering trees. Images of orcs, and their sadistic faces ran through his head. He would never tell anyone that one thing. The words had been Saruman's . . .but he couldn't deny them to lies.  
  
He remembered it now, as truth.  
  
Orcs were elves once.  
  
* * *  
  
Well, there you have it. The song is a poem I wrote a while ago, and I hope I haven't used it in this fic before, but in order to translate it I had to change almost all the lines because elvish is an incomplete language and certain words have no translation. But here's the original poem:  
  
Lost in memories  
  
Forgotten things wander  
  
Where angels have settled  
  
And ghosts gone yonder  
  
Petals of roses  
  
Died in the frost  
  
Litter the roads  
  
The forgotten have crossed  
  
The sky is light  
  
In the east of this place  
  
Western, 'tis dark  
  
In shadow's embrace  
  
Dragons and elves  
  
At peace with all other  
  
The strong and the weak  
  
Equal each other  
  
Victims of death  
  
Loveless, alone  
  
Claimed this land  
  
Of memory home  
  
So there you have it. I used Dwarves instead of Dragons to suit the purpose. And thank you all you reviewers so much! You have no idea how much I appreciate your reviews. I don't care if you hate it, but I love to hear it anyways! So please, continue to do your stuff, and tell me what you think. Reviews are my lifeforce!  
  
GemGemJoo: STOP THINKING OF IDEAS! *snarl * But send me whatever you write and I'll be happy to look at it! Although I will slap you for other fics, I'll still read them. ^.^  
  
Ankhesanamun: What website do you get your elvish from? I have a book, it's great. And I am praying to GOD that you cannot read fluent elvish because the song I translated I just used whatever word would kind of sort of mean something a tad bit similar to the original word. And I bet it would make no sense as the direct translation.  
  
Katinka Inga Bogananana: No! Not my lovely Tirdin! *hugs Tirdin and glares at Jason * AND YES! YOU ARE ADDING ROMANCE! YOU WILL WRITE A ROMANCE FIC IF IT'S THE LAST THING I FORCE YOU TO DO! AAAAAAAAA! *fly tackles *  
  
Lady of the Forest: He's going back to the fellowship soon. Maybe a chapter or two. I'm getting bored and running out of ideas for Lothlorien.  
  
Ivorybrowneyes: Is it OKAY if you say obsessed? I'd be flattered if you'd say obsessed! OF COURSE I'M OBSESSED! And yes, I would say from what I've snooped around in that the movie elvish is based pretty much on Tolkien's elvish. Not everything is Sindarin, I suspect Elrond and Galadriel speak Quenya more often. But I would say it is based on the book, yes. I doubt they just made up some words that sounded pretty.  
  
White Wolf: I think I was getting tired of guilt, and so I don't think I'm gonna do too much of it for Thranduil's death. But a bit, perhaps.  
  
Lirenel: Yeah, he was one of my favourite characters too. I posted my own rewrite of Rowling's death scene! It's called Stop Playing. I don't think it's my best; I could have done it better. But go read it!  
  
Ivory Novelist: Yes, I like all the same kinds of fluff, so expect more! ^.^  
  
Hino Rei: YAY! CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES! *picks out chocolate chips, eats cookies, then eats chocolate chips * Sorry, my mom started hiding the chocolate chips from me, and I can't find them and she'll stop buying them if she notices she suddenly has half the bag left. I have to be extra sneaky.once I find them. I haven't had some in sooooooo long! It's killing me!  
  
Merrylyn: Elvish rules! I read the song in this chapter to my friend, and she has confirmed that it is beautiful. I think it's the most beautiful sounding language ever. Anyways, thank you so much for lending me your awesome creativity! I will make good use of it . . .I hope . . .  
  
Elven-fae: I don't think I said that . . .but hey, I don't read things over, I just write and post. So meh, you never know.  
  
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I am overwhelmed by the amount of reviews I've gotten! I never expected to get so many (though I will admit, I always hoped I would)!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL! *gives everyone free Legolas and Haldir plushies and extra SUHET bumper stickers *  
  
Until next time!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	24. Laughter Rings Again

Disclaimer: I own Tirdin and Nifien and both their weapons, otherwise, zilch, nada, zippo.  
  
A/N: Okay, again, sorry for the wait, explanation at the bottom. But I was stuck for a while on a bit of this. And has anyone see Pirates of the Carribean? WOW! IT IS SO AWESOME! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow is now another of my muses. *legolas and other assorted elves and vampires shake heads in pity * Lol, so anyways, I love you all for staying faithful, even when it takes me forty years to update! You're all so incredibly awesome!  
  
* * *  
  
The sun was rising in the east, its light caressing the world as it appeared on the horizon. Golden light illuminated the clouds, making them like a great quilt over the world, woven of purple and orange and red cloth.  
  
Tirdin stood, watching the sun rise. His eyes were ice; his face was stone, yet his heart spilt enough tears for each.  
  
The things he had seen the previous night would not leave him. The blood, the wounds, the crying, the screaming . . . He had never heard Legolas scream before. What he heard escape his brothers lips came not from an elf, but from some lost creature; from some poor tormented creature, with no hope and with so many secrets locked tight in it's mind . . . And as he thought of this creature, it took shape in his mind, and he feared for it. He feared it would burst with it's silence, he feared it would burn in its utter isolation, even in the embrace of another.  
  
Tirdin had never been one for tears. He felt his sorrow was better spent in silence and isolation. And indeed, now he wished to be alone, more alone than ever. He didn't want to know the things he knew. He didn't want his brother to suffer the way he had-the way he still did. He didn't want to do what he had to do.  
  
But it was just that. He had to.  
  
"You didn't sleep last night."  
  
Tirdin spun around at the feminine voice. He found himself facing a tall hazel-haired elf, a beautifully engraved scabbard hanging loosely at her side. Her skin was darker than most, and her eyes darker still.  
  
"I saw you wandering around," she continued. Her voice was cheeky, yet her tone was serious.  
  
Tirdin ignored her statements. He was still looking her over. The deep crimson coloured garment she wore bared one of her shoulders. With a trained healer's eye, he saw signs of recent, yet quickly healed bruising.  
  
"You are the elf maiden he spoke of . . ." he said, almost to himself rather than to her. "Your name . . .Nifien?"  
  
"Aye, that it is. Nifien Nalldin." She saw the detached look in his eyes, and knew his thoughts were elsewhere. She had watched him for a little while before making her presence known; he had merely been standing in silence, watching the sun rise, though his eyes were not watching the horizon. There had been grief in that moment. And she was likely the only one who could have sensed that sorrow; for this ebony haired elf had been doing just as she so often would do.  
  
"Now you know my name, who might you be?"  
  
"Tirdin Kheleken. Legolas' brother."  
  
Nifien nodded in silent acknowledgement. She watched him as he turned back to the horizon, stone and cold with a nearly death-like emotion on his face.  
  
"He told you his story, didn't he." She stated it more than inquired.  
  
Tirdin sighed and hung his head. "Aye."  
  
Nifien smiled a sad smile. "It breaks your heart, does it not?"  
  
Tirdin whirled around. Rage flared in his eyes as he saw the smile on the maidens face. "Why is there such happiness in your voice?" he growled. "Why are you grinning like that? Do you take such pleasure in another's sorrow?"  
  
"No! No, not at all!" She put her hands in front of her to show she didn't mean to offend him. "I was merely thinking . . ." She stopped. She had been thinking, something in the back of her mind, but she wasn't quite sure how to say it.  
  
Tirdin searched her, waiting for her to finish. He knew the bruising on her delicate shoulders had been from the chains suspending her arms over her head for so long.  
  
"It would have killed you."  
  
Her voice was so quiet, only Tirdin's elven ears could pick it up.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Had you been there . . .had you seen him, had you heard him, and everything that was said and done to him . . . as his brother, it would have destroyed you." And silently she thought to herself, and I am glad it was I, and not you.  
  
Tirdin starred at this elf maiden for a moment. He suddenly remembered, though he had not forgotten, that she had been there, and she had seen Legolas' torment. He remembered Legolas' tale, and pieced it together with this mysterious elf, and cursed in his head. Such horrible things could not have been meant for such innocent eyes.  
  
"What . . ." He stopped, hesitant to ask the question; hesitant to hear the answer. "What was it like for you?"  
  
Nifien started at the question. She had not expected it. She took a breath and gathered her thoughts. "For me . . .it was something of a repetition, though so much more real. And. . . so much more cruel."  
  
And both thought it odd, that moment, for neither knew the other, and yet they had just spoken of and listened to things that perhaps otherwise would never pass their lips or ears.  
  
Tirdin sensed a secret in Nifien's words, but let it go. He instead turned his attention to the scabbard at her side. "You do swordplay?"  
  
She nodded, and noted his own sheathed sword. "As do you."  
  
Tirdin grinned slyly. "How fare your skills with the blade?"  
  
"Better than yours, I wager."  
  
Tirdin cocked his head to the side, mock surprise on his face. "Is that what you think?"  
  
Nifien nodded, a self assured and playful smirk on her lips.  
  
"Then let us see for certain!"  
  
Tirdin drew his sword, and the risen sun, low in the east, glinted off the metal. He twisted it about in the sun, admiring it himself, and knowing with pleasure that Nifien was staring at it too. The blade sung as it cut the air with its deadly sharp edges, elven script engraved on one side, and silver gracing the hilt.  
  
Then Nifien drew her own, an older, yet beautifully crafted blade, of fine elven skill, and Tirdin found himself awed by its beauty. The blade was a little dulled by age and by use, yet it still caught the light. Clever designs played on the metal, and a hilt made flecked with gold caught Tirdin's wonder. Yet he did not have much time to admire, as it suddenly clashed down on his own.  
  
He started but reacted fast, backing away and searching for an opportunity to get behind her. The clashing of metal upon metal sliced the formerly calm morning air. Tirdin faked a strike to the right, and quickly redirected the hit to Nifien's left. Nifien caught the trick and sprung right, knocking Tirdin's blade away with her own.  
  
They had begun moving back into the maze of trees, having to dodge low branches and avoid fallen logs and protruding roots. Nifien ducked a powerful blow, sending Tirdin's sword into a tree and sending several sparks with the collision. The sword hadn't gone far, and Tirdin was able to tug it out just before Nifien's sword came down on it. Nifien had to bring her blade up fast to block another of Tirdin's swift blows. In a display of much practiced skill and experience, they fought on, laughing now and again, and mocking and taunting each other.  
  
"Is that as fast as you can swing?"  
  
"A stone could have dodged that!"  
  
"I hope that isn't your best yet."  
  
"How you survive in battle, I'll never know."  
  
Suddenly, just as Tirdin was twisting his body back to Nifien from dodging another narrow miss, Nifien caught Tirdin unawares, bringing her blade from beneath and knocking Tirdin's sword from his hand. The blade flipped once in the air, and Nifien caught it's hilt with her free hand.  
  
"You disgrace me, Tirdin."  
  
Both elves, one with triumph and one with astonishment on their faces, whirled around to see Legolas, grinning smugly and leaning against a gnarled old tree.  
  
"Legolas! You . . .you're up already! I thought you would have been sleeping . . ."  
  
"No, no, if it were up to me I would never lie down again in my life," Legolas replied to his brother, noting his days in Lothlorien restricted to his bed as his wounds healed. He looked from his brother to Nifien. "I see you two have met."  
  
"Somewhat."  
  
Legolas grinned at Nifien, glad that cheer was once again restored to her and his brother.  
  
"Come now, let us talk of light and untroubled things! These days have been dark even in their blessed light, and I feel no longer a need for such dreary times!" Legolas said. He stepped forward from the tree, still with a heavy limp. Tirdin reached out to Legolas, and looped his arm over his shoulder. Legolas didn't refuse. Tirdin grinned to himself, and he knew that Legolas would have let no other support him even had he fallen.  
  
The three turned into the forest, Legolas slumping slightly, flanked by the other dark-haired elves. Their laughter rang together for once, and the trees laughed with them, delighted that mirth had returned to them all.  
  
{What are you doing here? How dare you accept Tirdin's help! He owes you nothing, with such a burden you've now placed upon him!}  
  
Legolas tensed, and Tirdin felt it, but regarded it as merely sudden pain from his wounds, and strengthened his hold on his brother. But Legolas would not relax, though he was silent. It was true, he had been such a burden to his friends, and he would trouble them no longer.  
  
* * *  
  
THANK GOD I FINISHED THAT! That scene between Nifien and Tirdin took me FOREVER! But it is over, and I am relieved. I guess I keep on keeping you waiting. I'm sorry, but since summer started, I've actually had a life for once, with art camp, and getting together a lot with my friends, and almost every day with one of them to play LOTR on the computer. So I wasn't going to give up my "life" for nothing, and was quite enjoying it. But today I managed a break, and had time to write, so yeah.  
  
Ivory Novelist: Heh. You like the song? Guess what. I was just reading it through, just for the fun of it, and I discovered that I actually used the same song, in English, in another chapter! I nearly killed myself!  
  
Sirithiliel: That's okay! I understand!  
  
Ankhesanamun: Oh, crap, so you can speak elvish. Well, I'm gonna hafta be a lot more careful now, won't I. *quivers in fear * I can barely speak much, just like hello friend and farewell and I figured out some queer little insults, ie, I call people "nibin fir", or petty mortal. But yeah. And I'm just gonna say, that remember, some sites claim to have pure elvish, but aren't always 100% Tolkien. I dunno if you're like me and spaz if anyone screws with the true Tolkien Way, but yeah. Just be careful. I bought a book about it, and it seems pretty good. It's called The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth, by Ruth S. Noel. And the song took me an hour to translate, and I was ready to kill when done.  
  
GemGemJoo: Sorry I haven't read your fic yet, I really really truly am! But I've had a life, which I think will be leaving me soon, and I've been brainblocked, and just kind of yeah. But I will, I promise, and I give you full fly-tackling and mutilating rights next time you see me if I don't.  
  
Lady of the Forest: Yay, more plushies! *opens closet and gets buried in an avalanche of elf plushies * Heh . heh.  
  
Katinka Ingo Bogananana: Yes. You will write a romance, or I will kill you.  
  
Merrylyn: That's a good idea! I should keep a record of names and sounds . . .what really killed me is that I was just thinking of a name, and I swear I'd never read/heard it before, and I came up with Eriador, so I used that. Then I just happened to be looking at a map of middle-earth (for later domination, of course), and there it was! The realm of Eriador! AUG! And it is really pissing me off. I spent two pages trying to spell it differently so that it looked cool and still gave the same sound. And sinister is the best word. Sinister assassin. So many s's. Don't you just love it?  
  
Until next time!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	25. New Tales are Told

Disclaimer: I own Tirdin and Nifien, and Dúgollo. And am currently stalking Legolas to try and kidnap him. But I am not Tolkien, nor in any way related, as far as immediate family goes, as far as I know, so yes. And suing me will do no good as I am poor.  
  
A/N: IT'S HERE! HAHA! Yes. And bloody hell, it's LONG. Actually, this chapter caused me a lot of grief. I just couldn't write for a while, then my writing when I could write was crap, so yes, it was crap for a while, and excuse any continued crapiness. Actually, I had about 6 pages less than the current 14 pages, then I was inspired to write more angsty stuff and added on 6 pages at the beginning! So yeah. Oo. And, I'm going to West Edmonton Mall this weekend, but I'll be back, but then my family's having this big party with preparations needed (mainly planning what to wear and how to do my hair), and then we go to Kelowna for a week, so I will notify you if I cannot update by then. But chapter 26 is already started, and much inspired. READ ON!  
  
* * *  
  
In the dimming of twilight, Legolas wandered the fair wood with silent feet. It had been good for him to laugh and hear laughter again. The day had brought light back into his soul and had let him forget the darkness looming in his heart and mind. Tirdin, Nifien and him had gone horseback riding about the woods, sometimes it being difficult to keep up to his eager brother on his grand midnight black horse, Dúgollo. Haldir had joined them for a while, but had matters to tend to and had left them.  
  
But now, alone again, Legolas found it harder to keep his heart hopeful. With darkness descending upon the forest, he raised his eyes to the stars. Their twinkling light reflected in his eyes for a moment, restoring their shine that had once glimmered there. He grinned up at them, and shut his eyes, feeling the cool breeze on his face and letting it play with his golden hair. He savoured the feeling of the soft earth beneath his feet, and opening his eyes, relished the night sky.  
  
{Who are you looking for?}  
  
Legolas jumped, startled by the intrusion of his thoughts.  
  
{What are you talking about?}  
  
{Do you think he is watching you now?}  
  
{Who?}  
  
{You know who.}  
  
And Legolas did.  
  
{Perhaps he is, perhaps he is not, but that does not concern you.}  
  
{You never saw your father die, did you?}  
  
Legolas clenched his hands in fists, but did not answer.  
  
{Answer me, elfling.}  
  
He was silent.  
  
{No, you never did see him die. You never did. Were you told what happened?}  
  
Again, Legolas was silent.  
  
{Do you wish to know?}  
  
Oh, how he did! It was no light thing to be taken, wandering about, with the knowledge of your fathers' death, yet unknowing of how it came to be. But he wouldn't answer that hostile voice in his head.  
  
{I can show you, little elfling. I can show you what happened.}  
  
{No!} Legolas erupted. He didn't want to see. He just wanted to know.  
  
{But you will not trust my words. Perhaps an image will be no better, yet it will linger with you longer.}  
  
{I don't want to remember.}  
  
{But you should. You should remember your father, and you should remember how he died, and above all else, you should remember why he died.}  
  
A moment passed.  
  
{He died because of you.}  
  
Suddenly the world around Legolas began to swirl and blend together. The trees melded with the sky and the earth with the bushes, until Legolas was standing amidst a vast chamber, with rough, jagged walls, and a cold stone floor, and torches only barely offering enough light for little sight.  
  
{No, not here, not here . . .}  
  
He heard faint singing off in the shadows.  
  
{A Elbereth, not here, get me out of here . . .}  
  
{Not yet, elfling. Look around.}  
  
Legolas slowly turned around, terrified of what he might see. He couldn't see far into the shadows, even with elven sight, but he knew where he was. Oh, he knew it far too well.  
  
Suddenly he saw them. Thranduil was looking at Haldir, and Saruman was standing behind Thranduil.  
  
{Turn around, ada, turn around, don't let him see your back . . .}  
  
But Saruman had already placed his gnarled old hands on the sides of Thranduil's head. Haldir's eyes shone with terror and questions.  
  
{Ada, turn around, turn around!}  
  
There was a sickening crack. Thranduil's body hit the floor with a gentle thud.  
  
{ADA! NO!}  
  
Haldir turned away then, and rushed back into the shadows. Legolas followed him with his eyes. He watched as Haldir lifted a near-unconscious Legolas off the ground, and took Nifien, and raced from those caverns.  
  
But Legolas didn't run after them. He turned back to his fallen father. His eyes were glassed over, like he was only sleeping . . .  
  
{Ada, wake up, please wake up . . .}  
  
He knelt beside the body, and ran his fingers through his fathers golden hair, so much like his own.  
  
{Wake up, ada, this isn't a good time to sleep . . .}  
  
He touched his icy cheek, and traced the line of a single tear down his face, feeling them on his own face.  
  
{Please wake up, ada, I love you, please wake up . . .}  
  
But Thranduil did not wake up, and Legolas only wept harder.  
  
* * *  
  
Darkness had at last descended upon the forest. Tirdin preferred the night to day. He loved how everything was concealed in darkness; he loved the colour of the sky, the chill in the air, and the hopeful, playful stars above his head. Most elves had retired for the night, but Tirdin took the opportunity to wander about alone, and to have his thoughts for himself.  
  
His raven black hair blended in perfectly with the night, and his darker coloured robes as well. Yes, he loved the darkness. It concealed everything, hiding things and loosing things.  
  
This night was particularly calm and warm, the air still and the sky clear. Tirdin's eyes saw quite well, even in the deep shadows, and he made his way about with no noise. He had much to think on, he felt, though he wasn't completely sure he knew himself what he had to ponder. He wanted to clear his head.  
  
A short song came to mind, and he hummed it softly, the words running through his mind. He strode happily through the woods for a while, but suddenly his footsteps slowed, and his singing faded away. Something in his mind was warning him of something . . .a threat. His feet grew more cautious, and he became acutely aware of everything around him. Nothing in his vision or hearing range warned him of anything, but something within was.  
  
He dodged behind several trees, keeping his hand ready on the hilt of his sword. But soon he came to see a strange lump on the ground a little distance away. Branches and leaves and foliage obscured his view, and he stealthily moved closer. But the closer he got, the more edgy he became. He caught the glimmer of golden hair in the moonlight, and saw the mossy green tunic . . .  
  
"Ai, Ai, A Elbereth . . ." he ran forward, and dropped to his knees beside his brother. Legolas' eyes were shut, his hair splayed about his head, leaves and dirt scattered over his tunic. Tirdin took Legolas' shoulders and shook him lightly; but Legolas did not awake.  
  
"Echoir, Legolas, echoir!" he whispered frantically, shaking Legolas a little harder, still hesitant around his fragile figure. But when he received no reaction, a wave of panic swept over him. Desperate, he gave Legolas one more, violent shake, and Legolas sat bolt upright, with such terror on his face that Tirdin nearly backed away.  
  
Legolas looked fearfully around. He was back, back in reality, back in the present. But he didn't want to be here. He wanted to go back, he wanted his father back in his arms, he wanted to wake him up . . .  
  
"Legolas . . .?"  
  
The elf twisted his head around to see his brother, looking confused and afraid at once. But then he looked up to the sky. Suddenly he didn't want it to be dark.  
  
"Legolas, what happened?"  
  
Legolas let himself fall forward into Tirdin, and all Tirdin got for an answer was tears.  
  
* * *  
  
"I saw him die, Tirdin, I saw ada die," Legolas sobbed softly into his brothers tunic. Tirdin continued stroking Legolas' hair and rubbing his back, holding him tight and not intending to release him. He looked at the stars, and silently prayed that this darkness would pass soon.  
  
"And he died because of me, all because of me."  
  
"No, Legolas!" Tirdin cried, pulling his brother away and holding him at arms length. He stared into those dim, tear ridden eyes, and the tear streaked face, and wondered quietly why this had all come upon his brother, who had already suffered probably more than most would in all their life.  
  
"It's all because of me, all of it, all of it's my fault . . ."  
  
"NO, Legolas! Listen to me!" Legolas raised his head just enough to meet Tirdin's eyes. "Don't EVER think that it was your fault. Everything that ada did, it was ada's choice. There's nothing you could have done to change that. Those were his choices, not yours." But Legolas only hung his head again.  
  
Tirdin sighed wearily, and pulled Legolas close to him again. They were silent for a while. Tirdin found Legolas' tears all too familiar, for there was a time when he, too, had felt the guilt of death.  
  
"Do you remember me before nana died?" he asked quietly. Legolas grinned faintly at the memory. Tirdin had once been a trouble-making, rambunctious elfling, always causing grief for the whole family, always getting into trouble and wriggling himself out of it. That was a long time ago. But neither brother had forgotten.  
  
"Aye, I remember well." Those had been good days, when the two would often run off into the woods, causing a desperately worried mother to go searching for them. "That was a long time ago."  
  
Tirdin nodded. "Do you remember how many things I had broken?"  
  
"A very tragic amount, brother, a very tragic amount."  
  
"One day I broke a beautiful vase that nana's mother had given her. When she found out, she had to flee the palace to vent her anger." There was a slight hesitation. "That was the day she was murdered."  
  
Legolas was suddenly very aware of the tenseness in Tirdin's body. He nodded silently, bidding him to continue, somehow knowing that his brother needed to say this, and he needed to keep going.  
  
"From the moment ada came to us, from the moment I saw both of you weeping into each other, I blamed my self. When ada told us, you ran to him for comfort. I sat where I was and shed not a tear. I've never shed those tears.  
  
"The guilt began eating away at me from the inside. I began to blame myself for every little mishap. I thought myself unworthy of anything good that happened to me. I thought myself unworthy even of you or of ada. I loathed myself, and oh, how that hurt me. But I wouldn't let myself cry; because I didn't deserve to grieve, I didn't deserve comfort. I taught myself to show no feeling. I taught myself to hide away, to isolate myself when things got too heavy. I hardly ever spoke with anyone, only you or ada when it was absolutely necessary. I became cold towards everyone, left to the mercy of my disillusioned mind for so many, long, long years.  
  
"Over time, I came to my senses and began to realize that it was not my fault. But those things that had come upon me did not go away. Still I feel pangs of guilt now and again. I have yet to shed the tears I ought to through those silent years. I cannot unlearn my cold and cruel nature, I still cry not even when my heart is drowning in my unshed tears.  
  
"I've long since lost the old Tirdin. And I know well by now that he cannot return, for I have grown too hard and frozen too deep, so that the old cannot enter and the ghosts cannot flee."  
  
Legolas felt his eyes shedding more tears now; he had never heard this story before, and it nearly shattered his heart. No one had ever thought too deeply about this troubled and quiet elf. No one had ever paid him the attention he deserved.  
  
"And I don't want that to happen to you, my brother. For I bleed deeper than anyone knows."  
  
Legolas looked up into the icy eyes that now were glimmering with tears that wanted to run. He saw pain there, the pain and the intensity of one who had suffered. The young elf looked wiser and older than he ought to. Legolas knew he would rule well.  
  
"Then bleed and weep with me. For I have found myself alone lately, and it would be well to share something with another."  
  
Tirdin hugged Legolas tighter, and let him cry into him. He wanted to weep, oh how he did! But some part of him, some part that swelled with each new unwanted sorrow, stopped him from doing so, and thus he held Legolas as long as Legolas would stay. But his eyes stayed dry as a desert.  
  
* * *  
  
Several more days passed in such a manner, and Legolas was beginning to see a stronger bond grow between his brother and Nifien. Now and again he witnessed awkward scenes, when one would touch the other in an affectionate way, and neither would know how to respond, and he would be forced to break the silence. And more than once he would silently follow them when they wandered off, and watch with much amusement as the two would spar, Nifien almost always beating Tirdin. Neither had noticed him watching since that first day.  
  
Legolas' nights were no more tormented by cruel dreams; although he had dreamt several times of his dead father, and woken with silent tears, that was to be expected. He distracted himself with Tirdin and Nifien. Often all three would wander about and tell of old tales and perhaps sing some song, or more commonly, teach Nifien an elvish melody the brothers had learned as children.  
  
Now and again the faceless voice would offer it's snide comments, but Legolas would ignore it and continue on with whatever it was he would be up to. It rarely spoke, and always just quietly, but they were cruel remarks, that took strength to deny. But Legolas was healing, and learning not to show his fear of it.  
  
* * *  
  
The sun was barely lighting the eastern horizon, when Tirdin found Nifien standing, waiting for it to rise. He crept up beside her with silent feet, though she did not move.  
  
"We seem to find each other here often."  
  
Tirdin nodded. There were different matters on his mind; matters that he found not at all simple to put into words.  
  
"How long are you planning to remain in Lothlorien?" he inquired after a moment, eager to set his tongue to speaking, while at the same time genuinely curious.  
  
Nifien shrugged. "I really have no place else to wander off to. I suspect I will stay until I am kicked out," she said, keeping a straight face. Tirdin grinned. "And you? You have duties to return to."  
  
Tirdin sighed. "Actually, I was planning to depart for Mirkwood soon after dawn."  
  
Nifien spun around to face him, surprise sparking in her dark eyes. "And when did you decide this? For you never told me, nor Legolas, as far as I have heard."  
  
Tirdin shook his head sadly. "I only decided last night. I've already gathered enough provisions for the road, and my horse is ready when I am."  
  
Nifien fought against her tears. She had only known this elf for several days, she should not be so sad at his departure! After all, she had known this would happen all along!  
  
Tirdin met her eyes, and a cheeky light came to his face. "I ask one more spar with you, my lady." He bowed, though he could not hide his smile.  
  
Nifien lifted her chin, like a proud and ruling lady, and nodded. "Very well, Tirdin Kheleken. You challenged Nifien Nalldin, and a challenge you shall receive!"  
  
And ere either could say any more, they were twirling off across the landscape, swords clashing between them, leaping backwards and leaping forwards, dodging swords and dodging logs. More than once a low-hanging branch would catch one across the face or a trees root would mysteriously appear and trip one over backwards. This time Legolas was not watching, but oh, would he have been proud of his brother had he been. Time and time again Tirdin forced Nifien to stop and retreat, his smile growing and growing with each successful lunge.  
  
Soon they were battling alongside a narrow, yet deep brook that trickled through the great forest. Tirdin dipped his booted foot in the current to bring a splatter of water to Nifien's robes and face. With shock and delight dancing in her eyes, she advanced on him quickly.  
  
"You'll pay for that one, elf!"  
  
Tirdin was at the end of the shallow water, on the verge of the sudden drop-off, when Nifien lunged forward with her sword, he leaped neatly to the side. However, with the momentum in her strike, Nifien's balance was unsteady, and she teetered there on the bank for a moment. Then, her body came forward, plunging the short distance to the water.  
  
She squinted her eyes shut, anticipating the cold water on her back. She waited. And she waited. But it didn't come.  
  
Warily, she opened her eyes only to see Tirdin standing over her, his arms supporting her arched back, and a calm and peaceful grin playing on his lips.  
  
"That was a foolish move, my lady."  
  
And she wondered at him for a moment, his raven-black hair and icy eyes, which seemed to melt away if you really looked into them. She wondered at his calm voice, his playful grin, and all the mysteries locked away beneath it. She then came to realize the reason for her sadness at his leaving, and the hidden feeling that had been pestering her ever since she first looked at him.  
  
She lifted her neck, and pressed her lips against his; softly at first, like a gentle, ever so tender gift that might break with the slightest push. She pulled away, and looked into Tirdin's eyes, searching for something she was hoping, praying was there.  
  
Tirdin grinned.  
  
He pulled her closer to him and kissed her.  
  
Beneath the shade of the trees and protection of the borders of the wood, the lovers welcomed each other in a new respect and bid farewell in longing.  
  
* * *  
  
The sun had already risen by the time Tirdin was beginning to leave the fair wood of Lothlorien. Legolas, Haldir, the Lord and Lady of the wood, and several others whom had made the young king's acquaintance had gathered to see him off.  
  
"You merely decided to leave last night? How early did you wake to prepare yourself?"  
  
"Oh, early enough, brother, early enough."  
  
It was a mournful parting for the two brothers, who, after so many long years of distant watching and living alongside the other, had finally begun to bond. Legolas wished greatly that Tirdin might have stayed even a little longer . . .  
  
In one swift and graceful motion, Tirdin mounted his beautiful horse, black and soft as the velvet cover of night. He had called it Dúgollo, night cloak, and fittingly so.  
  
He turned to look down at his brother. It pained him greatly to leave him; with foolish motherly-worry, he feared something terrible would happen to Legolas, and his heart ached to leave him unprotected. The borders of Lothlorien are among the safest in all Middle-earth, he chided himself, and he has Haldir and Nifien, after all.  
  
But those facts comforted him little.  
  
Also weighing on his mind was his reason for leaving in the first place. Despite the much encouraging words of his friends, he couldn't help but feel more than a little nervous; a barely known, not liked, yet not disliked prince returning in place of the murdered beloved king of a strong, yet dwindling kingdom.  
  
Legolas watched the worry play over Tirdin's features. He approached the tall horse, and said, so that even elven ears other than Tirdin's couldn't hear. "You will do ada proud, Tirdin, I know it." He backed away, grinning at his brother.  
  
Tirdin wondered then how Legolas could still smile. All he had been through and all that tormented him, undoubtedly still tormented him, and yet he could smile and make others feel so blessed to know him. The elf had secrets; he didn't need to know his mind to know that Legolas was hiding things. Perhaps to protect the others, perhaps it hurt him too much to admit to them. But either way, there was his brother, smiling up at him, and laughing at how the horse was far too tall for Tirdin to be riding.  
  
Suddenly Tirdin's gaze was drawn to the back of the tiny crowd. A bouncing head of dark brown hair was bobbling towards him, a pair of mysterious eyes, and a robe soaking wet at the bottom.  
  
Nifien bounded up to Tirdin. "I'm coming with you!" she gasped, breathless with excitement. Tirdin started and waited for more. "You heard me, elf," she continued on, narrowing her eyes, yet unable to stop her lips from smiling like mad. "I told you before I have no where else to wander off to, and it might as well be Mirkwood."  
  
The surprise on Tirdin's face nearly made Legolas and Haldir keel over with laughter. Haldir had accompanied Legolas on those spying trips at times, and noticed the awkwardness between them.  
  
Tirdin slowly drew himself from his state of surprise. He stuttered a bit. But the answer was so easy! What else was there that he could say?  
  
"Well . . . .err, alright . . ."  
  
Nifien leaped up high and pecked Tirdin on the cheek. "I knew it."  
  
Haldir was beginning to send a servant with orders for another horse, but Nifien stopped him. "I believe Dúgollo is big enough for the two of us," she replied, smirking.  
  
Tirdin rolled his eyes. "Alright, so maybe he is a little tall . . ."  
  
"More than a little, Tirdin."  
  
Tirdin scowled at Haldir, then shrugged, resulting in more fits of laughter from the others.  
  
Galadriel watched their light banter from the side, noticing how close Nifien settled to Tirdin, and watching with great interest as Legolas laughed in merriment. It was an interesting sight indeed, the two dark haired elves seated upon their black steed, amidst this realm of golden haired elves. They really did stand out from the rest.  
  
When the friends had finished saying their farewells, though Galadriel knew that on some level, they would never be done, she came forward and spoke words of encouragement and wisdom to the new king. Celeborn then took his turn, and before long Galadriel was grinning as Legolas and Haldir struggled to control both their laughter and tears.  
  
"Hold on tight, Nifien, he likes to ride fast," Legolas warned, with an utterly far too serious expression on his face. But Nifien merely nodded back with equal restraint.  
  
"Namarie, Aran Tirdin a Nifien a hainon halla roch!" Farewell, King Tirdin and Nifien and their tall horse!  
  
Once again Legolas and Haldir laughed, mostly to stop themselves from crying.  
  
"Namarie, mellen nin!" Tirdin responded back, and with a final wave, nudged Dúgollo into a swift gallop, and they were gone.  
  
Legolas stared down their path until they were out of elven sight. Haldir came up behind him.  
  
"Come, Legolas, there is something I'd like to speak with you about."  
  
Walking soundlessly through the golden wood, the trees leaned in closer, eager to hear of the outside world.  
  
"The Fellowship traveled from here on the river Anduin to Amon Hen," Haldir began. "There a good sized party of orcs came upon them. In the confusion Frodo and Sam departed for Mordor alone." Legolas' eyes widened. Those two little hobbits were in Mordor right now, and alone? Haldir hesitated slightly before continuing. "Merry and Pippin were taken captive."  
  
Legolas' neck spun his head to face Haldir, his golden hair flailing in the breeze. "By the orcs?"  
  
"Aye." Grief, slowly, inch by inch, crept over Legolas' face. Haldir didn't want to say what he said next . . .but it seemed his lips had a mind of their own. "The orcs are taking them to Saruman."  
  
Haldir noted then how Legolas flinched, and he guessed at the mention of Saruman. But, though perhaps the wizard's mention did contribute to Legolas' reaction, it was not that in particular that prompted it.  
  
{You remember what you were told about orcs?}  
  
Legolas flinched again.  
  
{Those are your kindred out there, elf, your kindred . . .undoubtedly tormenting the poor little ones as you speak here with your elf friend . . .}  
  
How could those little ones survive in the cruel hands of Saruman? For Legolas had only barely made it out alive . . .what would become of two young hobbits?  
  
"Aragorn and Gimli have been searching for them, but have recently rerouted to Edoras, the city of Rohan."  
  
Legolas nodded, glad Haldir was speaking again. "Yes, I know where Edoras is . . .wait . . .Aragorn and Gimli . . .what of Boromir?"  
  
Haldir stopped. "He . . .he was killed at Amon Hen."  
  
They had stopped walking now. Legolas tried to absorb all this information: Merry and Pippin, Boromir, Frodo and Sam. . . The Fellowship was broken then. So much had happened with out him there. And he couldn't help but ponder . . .had he been present, could he had been able to prevent those things? Had he been there, might Boromir still be living? Might Merry and Pippin still be free?  
  
"King Theoden has moved his people to Helms Deep, at the approach of an army of orcs, Saruman's newly bred kind, what he calls Uruk-hai." Haldir continued on, eager to get off such dark subjects, and successfully drawing Legolas from his guilty thoughts.  
  
"An army? How many strong?"  
  
Haldir hesitated again. "We estimate ten thousand."  
  
"Ten thousand? How can they hope to withstand that kind of attack?" Legolas cried, wondering quietly at the foolishness of his friend and the dwarf to allow such a thing.  
  
"Legolas, the Lady is sending me with a force of our elves to Helms Deep ere the Uruk-hai can reach the fortress. If you feel you are well enough . . ." Haldir had Legolas' full attention now, "you might come with us and join up with what is left of the Fellowship."  
  
{I wonder, were Uruk-hai elves once too . . .?}  
  
Legolas nodded slowly, considering his current turmoil over his knowledge of orcs versus what he felt was his duty.  
  
"Very well, I shall come with you to Helms Deep, and there again see my friend and my traveling companion," he said, thinking of Aragorn and Gimli in turn.  
  
Haldir smiled, and patted Legolas on the back. "Very well, my friend. We leave in two days' time." They began walking again. "I am guessing you would be eager to spill some orc blood?"  
  
This time Legolas refrained from flinching.  
  
{Orc blood?}  
  
Legolas nodded, a mask of serenity plastered over his face in a pleased smile.  
  
{Do you think you can spill more of your kindred's blood, little elf?}  
  
Legolas laughed at Haldir's remark, though he couldn't quite recall what it was.  
  
{You're going to go and kill more elves, elfling?}  
  
{Stop.}  
  
Haldir bid Legolas goodnight, and Legolas was left alone to his mind.  
  
* * *  
  
Did you enjoy the longness? I tell you now, it caused me much grief, this chapter, so you had better enjoy it. *evil glare * Right. I think I'm gonna do a big time leap for the next chapter, I'm getting bored, and, as Ankhesanamun said, all the last chapters have been kind of boring and the same. And I agree. And I am high on the mask of Zorro and POTC and battle scenes. Mwahahahahahahahaha. Anyone like what I did with Tirdin and Nifien? Who saw that coming? Most of you, probably. And I know that the tall horse thing was pretty queer, but I was having a perky moment. And remember! I adore critiques! Don't just say that you liked it or hated it, tell me what about it you like or hate. Or whatever. But reviews are nice. I like reviews . . . .*strokes review*  
  
* ahem *  
  
Anyways . . .  
  
Katinka Inga Bogananana: Babbling is fine. Dear god, have you read the review I leave? O.o  
  
Irish QT: Yeah, sorry the waits for updates are so long. And I actually did have this chapter prepeared earlier, but then fanfiction was down, so yeah.  
  
ElvenRanger13: Meh, poem, song, same thing. And thanks! ^.^  
  
Sirithiliel: Tell me when you update your fic, I may forget to check. But I like it! Everyone, go read Sirithiliel's fic!  
  
GGJ: I'm really happy with RP fic we're doing! IT'S FUN! Hehe. And you've got me hooked on slash, but I'm not doing any in this fic. Just friendship fluff. No worries.  
  
Lady of the Forest: Sigh. I know, beaten by a girl. How sad. *looks with pity at Tirdin, who glares back * I hope the effectiveness of fight-scenes holds for the next chapter! Or else I might as well die now!  
  
Ankhesanamun: Oh, so you're all high and mighty with your Quenya, eh? *glares * Heh, just kidding. Sometimes I will mix Quenya and Sindarin if maybe one of the two has a word I need and the other doesn't, but so long as no one's really particular about that, I'm safe. And yeah, I know it was getting boring. The next chapter's leaping ahead in time, as I am also quite bored. But expect no more boringness! Or so I can hope . . . =S  
  
Merrylyn: That is interesting. You could scare a good many people with that eyetwitch. Go yonder and frighten, young grasshopper! I've seen POTC twice now, and probably drowned the entire continent in my drool. And I thank you very much. Your review inspired that entire first bit with the whole brotherly fluffy stuff. I only had from the Tirdin-Nifien scene and on at first, then I got your review, and got all angty-high. Hehe. Thank you very very much. And fear not, for my happy dance is dorky as well. It is the queer Frodo dance he does at Bilbo's party.  
  
Lady V: I am too lazy to try and spell out the other bit of your name. And I salute you on your gettingupandreadingthisfic-ness. *salutes * I am honoured you stayed up that late reading.  
  
HalandLeg4ever: Thanks for the review!  
  
That's all for now, kiddies! I've already started chapter 26 (which is pretty good, considering my usual delays), so hopefully you won't have to wait too long. However, I have a big fight to write and that may take a while. So yeah. But please be kind and review!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	26. Old Friend, New Friend: Part I

Disclaimer: I own the voice. It is chained to my bedpost. Other than that, zilch.  
  
RIGHT! This is part one of Helms Deep, next part coming soon. I decided to divide it into two chapters, lest I not be able to update again before I leave. So yes. Here it is! It's kind of awkward in some places, not my best, but whatever, at least it's a chapter.  
  
* * *  
  
Aragorn watched in amusement as Gimli struggled to get on the suit of chain mail. They were nearly the last in the armoury, gathering their weapons and choosing armour. Finally, the suit made its way over Gimli's head and fell over his body, only to gather in good amount at his feet. A wry grin etched itself over Aragorn's face.  
  
"It's a little tight across the chest," Gimli said. Aragorn fought back his laughter.  
  
Suddenly, there was the sound of a horn blowing, and both heads turned in its direction.  
  
"That is no orc horn."  
  
Aragorn raced up the stairs, leaving Gimli to struggle with his armour, praying, praying it was what he thought it was.  
  
All of Helms Deep was roused then, and stared in awe at the spectacle laid before them. Through the gates, the force marched, banner held high and horn announcing their arrival. They were cloaked in a deep purpley- blue that matched a common night sky, unlike the stormy one that loomed presently overhead. Their hoods shadowed their faces, but Aragorn could see their fair complexion. He knew that these were elves. Racing over the battlements, he sought their leader.  
  
Theoden watched in awe of the elves, marching into Helms Deep. "How is this possible?" he muttered to himself, knowing that none had called for aid.  
  
A golden-haired elf stepped forward, clad in armour, with no hood to hide his face. "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," he began. "An allegiance once existed between elves and men. Long ago, we fought and died together." He raised his eyes to see Aragorn racing towards him. He grinned. "We come to honour that allegiance."  
  
"Mae govannen, Haldir!"  
  
Many heads turned to watch Aragorn run forward, a look of such relief and joy on his face that the rest could not help but share in his happiness.  
  
Aragorn put both his hands on Haldir's shoulders, an incurable smile dancing over his features. "You are most welcome." He pulled Haldir into an embrace, and Haldir stiffened, surprised by such an action. But he relaxed, and returned it.  
  
From behind Haldir, one soldier grinned a bit. Then the whole army turned as one to face Theoden and his people, and Aragorn caught the soldier's grin. Haldir was saying something to Theoden, but Aragorn took no notice. He stepped closer to the elf soldier. He knew that grin. He knew those lips; he had known them all his life. As he came closer, he caught the glimmer of blue eyes from beneath the hood, and the shimmer of golden hair. It had to be him, it had to be! But it couldn't . . .but it had to . . .  
  
"Legolas . . .?"  
  
The elf pulled down his hood. The shadow cleared his face and he was left grinning like mad at his lifelong friend.  
  
"A Elbereth, Legolas!" Aragorn cried, and wrapped his arms about his friend, pulling him towards him and squeezing him tight, afraid to let him go. Legolas in turn embraced his friend, finally finding the comfort he needed. It had been far too long since their last meeting. Speechless, they bothered not with tales and questions; those could wait. And so they remained there, tight in the arms of each other.  
  
* * *  
  
Gimli walked calmly about the battlements, wondering where Aragorn had run off to. Probably speaking with the elves, he thought with disdain. But then he stopped; stopped and stared.  
  
There was Aragorn, standing in the middle of the fortress, tight in the desperate embrace of this slight, frail creature.  
  
So the elf had survived . . .  
  
Gimli stared in silence for a moment. He recalled the grief and the anger of the elves and of Aragorn when Legolas had been taken. It was true, he had no idea what that kind of darkness could do to an elf. But here he was, bow strung over his back, overflowing quiver, and twin elven blades. As Aragorn and Legolas released, and walked away to find a place on the battlements, Gimli caught a slight limp in Legolas' stride. He knew well the swift healing native to elves . . .and if Legolas still held a limp . . .  
  
What evil could have befallen him at Isengard?  
  
He found no desire to greet Legolas, but he found that he could not openly hate the prince either. Though he stubbornly would not admit it, in his heart he knew it: This elf deserved far more respect than Gimli owed him.  
  
* * *  
  
The army of elves was slowly filling in the battlement walls, inspecting their bows, sharpening their blades, and stocking their quivers. Aragorn led Legolas around, showing him the various entrances and exits, staircases and chambers. When again they had resumed their search for an appropriate station on the wall, Legolas found himself uncomfortably shooting quick, nervous glances at Aragorn.  
  
"Why do you keep looking at me?"  
  
Aragorn hastily turned away and felt colour come to his face. "Sorry, it's just . . .it's just when I left Lothlorien . . ." he stopped. He turned again and looked Legolas directly in the eyes, and spoke a little softer. "I thought I'd loose you."  
  
Legolas looked back down, making sure to avoid the scattered items on the ground. He grinned. "You are going to have to try a lot harder to get rid of me than that, my old friend."  
  
They both laughed. It sounded good in their ears, to hear their voices together again.  
  
Suddenly Legolas saw Gimli walking absently towards them. It was dark out by now, but Legolas' sight could make out every detail: his tangled beard, his bright eyes, his many battle-axes. And, he noted quietly to himself, an elf could have heard his footsteps from twenty leagues away.  
  
Gimli knew he was approaching the elf. Unconsciously he raised his chin and walked proudly up to them. Not quite sure what to say, they stood facing each other for a couple awkward seconds. Then he opened his mouth, the usual insults he would say to any elf floating on his tongue, but he stopped himself. This wasn't an ordinary elf. He shut his mouth and started again.  
  
"It is well to have you back among us, Legolas Greenleaf."  
  
And Legolas nearly started at the sincerity and the formality in the dwarf's words. Was this really the dwarf he had set out with from Rivendell? It took him a moment to recover and choose his words."  
  
"It is good to be back, master dwarf."  
  
Gimli and Aragorn talked shortly, mostly of the battle to come, and then they went their separate ways. Legolas leaned over to mutter into Aragorn's ear.  
  
"Some things certainly have changed considerably since I left you."  
  
Aragorn grinned. "He rides horses too." Aragorn nearly collapsed in laughter at the shock on Legolas' face. "We met with the Rohirrim, and they gave us two horses. I saw no use in wasting the second . . ."  
  
Laughter lit up Legolas' features. He thumped Aragorn on the back. "Alas! you are so cruel, Aragorn, so cruel."  
  
* * *  
  
The warriors of Helms Deep were silent. The sky was darkening with every passing minute, and the heavy stomping of the enemy army approached in a sense of inevitable doom.  
  
Legolas was standing next to Gimli, regrettably, and Aragorn had taken a position as commander for the elves. Haldir stood on the opposite end of the wall with still more elven warriors.  
  
They could see the Uruk-Hai now. It was difficult not to see them, their numbers were so vast. Legolas could sense the fear in men and elves alike. He knew this was not the place for an elven army. This was Theoden's war. But here they were, facing the creatures that would surely eliminate them all.  
  
He couldn't help but wonder, as the battle drew nearer, how he would fare. How would he look at an orc now, how could he kill one? Would he even be able to, or would he fail them all?  
  
Suddenly lightening flashed, and Legolas saw clearly the endless, lurching sea of spears and shields, all painted with the white hand of Saruman.  
  
Gimli looked up at Legolas when the lightening flashed and lit the scene. He saw the fear on the elf's face, and knew that he was desperately trying to hide it. He understood that Legolas was afraid. His tormentor was after him again, and what did Gimli know? Maybe some of these beasts would recognize the elf. Maybe they would pay extra attention to him.  
  
Any other time, he would have shrugged off the matter and mocked it.  
  
He leaned closer to the tall elf beside him, and muttered, not bothering to raise his voice with the knowledge of the keen elven hearing.  
  
"It's alright to be afraid. But be strong and afraid."  
  
Legolas looked down at the dwarf, unmistakable surprise written on his features. Gimli had to admit he surprised even himself by saying that. What was he doing here, offering encouragement to an elf? The son of one of his father's most hated foe, no less.  
  
Legolas wondered at Gimli for a moment. Where was the dwarf in him? Where was the mocking, taunting side, which would have shoved him off the battlements by now? Changes had indeed come over the dwarf. And Legolas felt changes come over him, then. For those had been wise words, and truly encouraging. He found he could no longer hate the dwarf directly.  
  
They waited on in silence, until the Uruk-Hai came to a halt before the stone walls of Helms Deep. Aragorn's voice rang clear over the battlements.  
  
"A Eruchin, u-dano i faelas a hyn, an uben tanatha le faelas!" Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none!  
  
Legolas wondered just how much mercy he would show . . .and how much he would receive.  
  
Silence descended on both armies. Rain tapped on armour and shields, and thunder crashed in the dark, dark sky.  
  
"What's going on out there?" Gimli's frustrated voice broke through the thick air.  
  
Legolas grinned to himself. Perhaps this dwarf was a blessing . . .a blessing in disguise-and a good one at that! "Would you like me to describe it to you," he started, and felt Gimli's annoyed eyes on him, "or would you like me to find you a box?"  
  
Gimli looked at him for a moment. And then he laughed.  
  
The Uruk-Hai began stamping their long shafted spears on the ground, and banging them against their armour and shields.  
  
{This is it, elfling. Time to prove yourself.}  
  
Legolas glanced down the wall, and saw Aragorn draw his sword. The elven warriors put their feathered arrows to their bows, and Legolas joined them.  
  
{What am I trying to prove?}  
  
The Uruk-Hai were growing more anxious for battle, and clattered their weapons louder and faster and faster.  
  
Suddenly, an arrow, not an elven arrow, Legolas was glad to note, streaked through the rain and night air, and buried itself in one of the creatures' necks. Silence descended. The orc fell to the earth, dead.  
  
"DARTHO!" Aragorn yelled out for them to hold their fire, obvious anger in his voice. But it was too late. The Uruk-Hai roared in rage, and charged forward.  
  
{Prove that you are either a kin-slayer, or a traitor to your allies and friends.}  
  
"Faeg I-varv . . .din na lanc a nu ranc," Legolas muttered, more to keep his mind away from the voice. This was it. He either fought, or he didn't.  
  
"LEITHIO I PHILINN!" Despite the noise, Legolas heard Aragorn's order clearly enough, and only because everyone around him was, he loosed his arrow. He didn't watch to see it hit an uruk square in the chest.  
  
"Anyone hit anything?" Gimli asked, fidgeting restlessly. Legolas didn't answer. Aragorn was giving the order to fire as they wished, and arrows streaked past him into the night, and Legolas had to watch as the creatures fell.  
  
Gimli was practically running in circles now, waiting for the first of the enemy to reach his axe. "Send them to me! Come on!"  
  
Legolas hadn't fired another arrow yet.  
  
"PENDRAITH!" came the cry, as ladders knocked against the deepening wall.  
  
Gimli's laughter might have sounded insane, but Legolas took no notice. "Good!" came the dwarf's gruff shout as the first orc showed its face. With one swipe of his axe, Gimli sent that face flying quite separate from its body.  
  
Aragorn called for them to draw their swords. Legolas watched as the elves around him slew orc after orc. He winced as they fell at his feet. Unsheathing his twin white knives, he prowled about the wall, trying to avoid fights. But one uruk closed in on him, and Legolas merely backed away, until he was braced against the end of the wall. The uruk grinned a cruel, delighted grin, and he approached Legolas quickly, raised his sword over his head, and began to let it fall.  
  
But Legolas' desire to live was stronger than anything else. Faster than anything the orc could have pulled off, Legolas lunged with his knife, and the uruk slumped forward, a shocked look on its dead face. No one heard the elf whimper. No one saw the pain on his face as he withdrew the knife from the creature's belly.  
  
{That's one . . .}  
  
{Not . . . . .now . . .}  
  
Legolas was ducking blows and fending off orc after orc, and struggling against his mind all at once. He didn't slay another one. He merely shoved them away harshly enough that they did not return.  
  
Gimli's voice made its way to Legolas' ears. "Two already!" he boasted loudly.  
  
Legolas thought fast. If the dwarf wanted competition, competition he would have. "I'm on seventeen!" he lied quite convincingly.  
  
Disbelief shot its way through Gimli's rough face. "What? I'll have no pointy-ears outscoring me!"  
  
Legolas knocked two uruks to the floor. They didn't die, but they didn't move. "Nineteen!"  
  
But the ladders seemed to have no end of uruks ascending them, and as face after face appeared, Gimli had a good system working for him, as he beheaded orc after orc, his count ascending rapidly.  
  
A spark of light below caught Legolas' eye. He looked down. An uruk was sprinting towards the wall with a sparkling torch in hand.  
  
Aragorn saw it too. "Togo han dad, Legolas!"  
  
Legolas strung an arrow to his bow and aimed fast.  
  
{Are you going to kill him?}  
  
Caught off-guard, the arrow missed and buried itself in the orcs shoulder. It continued its course.  
  
Aragorn cried desperately at him. "DAGO HAN! DAGO HAN!"  
  
{Are you going to kill him?}  
  
The next arrow missed too. Legolas winced.  
  
{Ai, what must he think of me now?}  
  
The beast threw himself into the deepening wall. Legolas gasped as a great explosion shook the great fortress, and men, elves, and stone soared through the air.  
  
{That was where Aragorn was standing . . .}  
  
{You see that, elfling? You did that.}  
  
Legolas winced again.  
  
{Are you siding with your elf-kin now?}  
  
Legolas looked around at the men and elves fighting their way through the uruk-hai.  
  
{Are you betraying your friends?}  
  
Legolas watched as Haldir moved past him, cutting down orc after orc after orc.  
  
{Whom are you sided with now? Kin or friend?}  
  
Then Legolas looked at the ugly, so un-elf-like creatures murdering valiant elves and brave men. He came to a decision then. He ran forward, brandished his knife, and drove it into the nearest ones belly.  
  
{They are not my kin. They are orcs.}  
  
And the voice was silent.  
  
And that made Legolas even more frightened.  
  
* * *  
  
Part Two of Helms Deep Coming Soon  
  
* * *  
  
There we go. That's only part one! Part two will come soon. Already have some scenes planned out. SO. I'm not the greatest at fight scenes, but you can't exactly avoid Helms Deep, now, can you? Some things happened in this chapter I did not expect. And, of course, it is movie-verse, for purposes necessary to the fic. I may have moved too fast at some points in this chapter. Tell me if you think everything should have been more gradual. Remember, critiques endlessly appreciated! Reviews of any kind are my sustenance. I starve without them.  
  
OO! And, I'm going on vacation in a week, so, if I don't get chapter 27 up by then, I am soooooooooo sorry in advance, and you will have to wait another week. So yes.  
  
HalandLeg4ever: Sorry, no more romance! Perhaps later I will check in with Tirdin and Nifien every so often, but don't expect too much more of it.  
  
Ankhesanamun: Guess what? I spelt your name for the first time without looking at it every second letter. HAHA! And I know very well how you feel. I have a normal upper-body, but OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO no, my legs just won't grow!  
  
Lady of the Forest1: Enough surprise for you? And what was really strange, was I hadn't even planned Tirdin's past until I wrote it.  
  
Merrylyn: Good that you adore Tirdin! But he is MINE! *draws Tirdin into protective bear-hug, leaving Legolas feeling quite left out and confused * I have an idea for a prequel to this, that will be Tirdin's story. So, when I'm done this, it will not be the last of him! And, I'm getting hungry for more physical angst. Perhaps battle-wounds, perhaps something more . . .supernatural, shall we say? Heh. Glad you liked it. And I LOVE long reviews! I find myself bored these days, and no matter what the level of rambling, long reviews are ALWAYS appreciated.  
  
Irish QT: Heh, glad I have a devoted reader! More Uruk-Hai butt kicking to come!  
  
Sirithiliel: Sorry it took me a while to get around to your fic. But I did get there, right? Heh.  
  
Mrs. Isaacs: LONG REVIEWS RULE! No need to apologize, and side note: my time is not precious, it is meaningless and boring. Ergo, pleeeeeeeeeeeease review all you like and ramble all you wish.  
  
Zelda: Wow, I am honoured you put my fic on your website! Ah yes, the killer pop-up ads. I think they're trying to kill us all.  
  
That's all for now, kiddies! Until next time, TOODLES!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	27. Old Friend, New Friend: Part II

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, I do own some things. But nothing here. Sadly.  
  
A/N: Well, what is this? A quick update? Have aliens taken over soulsearcher's body? NO! I really, really and truly am alive and well and updating! Well, with no further delay, I give you . . .HELMS DEEP! Part II. I think you'll like one particular thing I did here . . .  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas saw both Gimli and Aragorn leave the Deepening Wall for the swarming orcs below. He grabbed a discarded orcish shield and set it on the stairs. He stepped back, then leaped onto it, as it clattered down the steps, firing arrows as he went. When it came to a jerking halt at the bottom, he used the momentum to run forward, and drove the arrow in his hand into an orc's belly.  
  
The battle grew more and more fierce as the warriors got warmed up. Uruk-hai fell at Legolas' feet, even as he dodged over and around already dead allies and foe alike.  
  
He saw Gimli fiercely defending himself and dispatching orcs by the handful. But behind the Dwarf a foolish Uruk-hai was rushing towards him. Gimli appeared not to notice. Fast as lightening, Legolas strung an arrow to his bow and let it fly.  
  
Gimli felt the wind as the elven arrow narrowly missed his ear. He shot Legolas a confused look. "Are you trying to kill me?" he shouted.  
  
Legolas made his way to Gimli's side. "Master Dwarf, you have two sides, your front and your back. I suggest you defend both."  
  
With that, the elven warrior leaped away and twirled off, firing his arrows and never missing. He was fully into the battle now, and the voice was silent. These uruk-hai, these beasts, were not his kin. Perhaps they had been a long time ago, but they were not so any longer. They had been blinded by evil, and they had accepted it. Legolas could not help but hate them for their deception, even if it was unfair. But he also felt a considerable amount of pity; for he knew partially what the first of them had gone through. But they had been weak, and this was their price.  
  
Legolas ducked under a sword and flipped out his twin elven blades. He quickly spotted the unprotected area on the uruk-hai's neck. As it brought its sword back around, Legolas shuffled backwards, out of the way of the swing. He tossed one knife so that he held it by its tip. With one flick of his wrist, he sent the blade spinning through the air, and catching the uruk in the throat. Even as it fell to the ground, Legolas retrieved the blade, and dove further into the onslaught.  
  
Through the jolting sea of weapons and armour, Legolas managed to catch Haldir's eye, who was still on the Deepening Wall. Haldir's eyes were concerned, as if inquiring how Legolas fared. Legolas grinned. He felt the hot breath of the uruk-hai at his back. He turned his knife in his hand and swept it behind him, driving it deep into the creature's middle. How's a dead orc for an answer? he thought.  
  
A mock look of impression passed Haldir's face. He swung out his sword, pivoting in a full circle, and in doing so severing more than one enemy head.  
  
Legolas laughed loudly, and looked for an orc to practice another move on. He brandished his knives on either side of his foe, and swept them each through the neck, crossing over each other as they went. The two elves competed fiercely, each successfully outdoing the other in a magnificent contest of seasoned skills. The elves moved with flowing grace, inspiring deadly awe in the enemy. Legolas admired Haldir's skill with the sword. Neither had seen the other fight for many, many years. But Legolas was being driven away by the tides of battle, and soon their light-hearted game came to an end.  
  
As Legolas moved further and further through Helms Deep, he noticed that there were fewer men and elves around him, yet the numbers of the enemy did not dwindle. The elf prince found himself fending off more and more uruk-hai at a time.  
  
More uruk-hai threw themselves at Legolas, and still more gathered. Soon he found himself surrounded on all sides by the beasts, their eyes hungry for the elf. Horrible memories began to reoccur to him as he battled, of the times the orcs had gathered around him, and beaten him until he could barely move. Places where the bruises had long since faded began to throb, limbs that had healed began to ache. Threads of panic weaved through Legolas' mind as the pain and terror resurfaced. His knives deflected blow after blow. The panic grew with every movement. He could not let these creatures ever touch him, ever hurt him again.  
  
Yet suddenly an unexpected move made its way past Legolas' defences. A rough steel blade struck Legolas deep on his cheek. In horror he saw the blade pull away tainted with rich elven blood.  
  
Legolas' panic skyrocketed. He began to move faster and faster, his movements a blur. The sight of his own blood spilt by an orc brought forth even more memories. Images flashed through his mind of the greedy orcs snapping their whips over his shoulders; he remembered the first time, when they had used the chain . . .he felt his chest begin to hurt. He remembered the sick laughter and the cruel delight, and they became all too real, as he whirled around desperately, terror dancing unveiled over his being. The blood from his slashed cheek trickled to the corner of his lips, the metallic taste exploding in his mouth.  
  
In his panic, his movements became more hurried, his attacks more clumsy. More than once his defences failed, and he obtained several more cuts. The men around him had either fled or been slain. The elves too were gone. Legolas was alone.  
  
Suddenly, in a very uncharacteristic wish, Legolas wanted someone to come for him. For he had come to realize that no one was there. No one would help him. This would be his end. He would die here, alone.  
  
{I cannot die here!}  
  
Maybe, had he not been so terror-ridden, so desperate and panicked, maybe he would have noticed the whistle through the air. But he did not hear it sing, he did not see it fly. It hit him hard, but he hardly felt it.  
  
* * *  
  
Haldir had moved further down the wall. From the height, he could see well Legolas' dire plight. Hurriedly he sought a way down, so that he could aid Legolas. His quiver had run dry, and there were still orcs on the wall to be felled. Every chance he had, he was watching Legolas carefully.  
  
Suddenly, one orc caught his eye. It had strung a long, black arrow to its cruel bow. Alarm struck Haldir. He looked frantically for a discarded arrow, but he was too slow. He heard the twang of the bowstring, and looked up just in time to see the dart burry itself deep in the back of Legolas' right shoulder. Legolas staggered a little, but faltered not other than that, his defence not slowing. He appeared not to even have felt it; no pain crossed his desperate face.  
  
Haldir realized just how terrible these circumstances were for the elf prince. Again Legolas was at the mercy of evil, and again he was wounded by it.  
  
He pulled an elven arrow from a dead orc, took down the archer who had shot Legolas, and looked even more desperately for a way down.  
  
* * *  
  
Gimli watched the elven captain shoot, and followed the missile's flight. It took down an orcish archer. But that wasn't the last of them. The dwarf spotted another archer, on the opposite side of the swarming sea. He saw it string its own arrow and fire.  
  
The dwarf ran towards it, eager to add another few notches to his axe.  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas felt his chances fading. Adrenaline kept his muscles working, but he knew he couldn't keep it up forever.  
  
{IcannotdiehereIcannotdiehereIcannothere}  
  
Out of nowhere Legolas felt the second arrow of the night strike him. He staggered back, but did not slow. He hardly felt the pain of any of his wounds.  
  
An orc lashed out at him, and Legolas jumped back, only to have to dance away again from a spear at his back. He kept up his elusive dance, feeling his tunic rip and flesh tear more than once.  
  
A great battle cry suddenly pierced the air, and the rough voice could only belong to one. Gimli came crashing through the orcs, clearing a path. He saw Legolas in the centre, somewhat surprised, and made his way to the elf.  
  
"Now, you listen here, Elf. There are four sides: your front and back, and your left and right," he chided, knocking away orcs at Legolas' back. Legolas was intensely thankful to see the dwarf, and he was glad that Gimli could not see the relief on his face. He was sure that Gimli hadn't noticed Legolas' wounds, and wanted it to stay that way.  
  
Haldir watched the dwarf in bewilderment. It eluded him completely just what exactly went through the stunted creature's mind.  
  
But he saw what Gimli did not. Legolas' movements were beginning to slow, no matter how slightly. Making one final decision, he stepped back from the edge of the wall. Drawing a deep breath, he sprinted forward, and leaped from the wall, plunging into the churning ocean of orcs below.  
  
Legolas heard behind him the screams of dying orcs. The sound wasn't loud enough to come from Gimli's axe, but it was close enough to bring him hope.  
  
Over time, the sea around them thinned, until they were free to move around, cutting down the last remaining orcs. Legolas thanked the Valar vigorously in his mind, for he surely would have been slain had it not been for Gimli.  
  
. . .And Haldir!  
  
He glimpsed the Lothlorien elf to his right, working his swordplay over some unfortunate Uruk-hai. Legolas grinned, and felled the orc before him.  
  
At last came a time when Legolas could stop. He bent over, putting his hands on his thighs and breathed heavily. Panic left him as energy- loss and feeling returned. The arrow wound in his shoulder burned terribly, but he second one was worse. It had caught him in the upper right arm, and it hurt like it shouldn't have. The skin around it felt like it was crawling, and it seared with a sensation that mad him dizzy. It hadn't gone all the way through, but it nudged against the bone. Though that did add a considerable amount of pain, it was not what hurt him so.  
  
Haldir raced over to his panting friend. "Legolas! Legolas, are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine," the prince gasped. But Haldir knew better than to heed those infamous words.  
  
"Hold still . . ." He snapped the shaft of the first arrow shorter, resulting in a suppressed grunt of pain. When he snapped the shaft of the one in his arm, Legolas jerked away in a violent involuntary movement, cradling his arm tenderly.  
  
"Sorry," Haldir apologized.  
  
"Not your fault."  
  
Next Gimli ran over. He looked overly proud of himself, and Legolas knew his count had risen drastically. He was about to say something, but stopped. His face fell when he looked at Legolas.  
  
"Master Legolas! When did-"  
  
"Don't know," Legolas gasped. Now it occurred to him, he couldn't quite recall his battle clearly. Just a jumble of terror and images.  
  
He grimaced, and fell to his knees suddenly. Haldir ran to him grasping him gently by his shoulders. "Legolas, stay with me!"  
  
But Legolas only fell forward. His hands went out to catch himself, but when the weight landed on his right arm, he cried out and collapsed. He moaned quietly, as if only to himself. He was tired, and didn't want to get up.  
  
Haldir looped his hands under his friend's arms, hoisting him to his feet. "You're not leaving me now."  
  
Legolas held up a hand in protest, but did not resist to Haldir's aid. "I'm alright . . .just . . .tired." But Legolas met Haldir's eyes. They were lit with a grave understanding.  
  
Both knew the second arrow had been poisoned.  
  
Legolas turned quickly away from that accusing gaze, only to meet Gimli's worried and confused face.  
  
"Let us go and seek out Aragorn." He forced his voice to be stronger. His two companions nodded, and they turned to seek out the man.  
  
"Wait . . ." Haldir stopped them. He walked over to Legolas, and put his hands on the arrow in his arm. Legolas shut his eyes tight and nodded. Haldir tugged out the arrow, and Legolas cried out, stumbling forward, his face twisted. Haldir put a hand on his shoulder, and Legolas stood upright again. Ripping off a long piece of material from his own tunic, Legolas bound the wound tightly. They would leave the other one, for fear of more bleeding. But that one had to have gone, lest the venom continue to come.  
  
Legolas saw Gimli's startled expression, and grinned to reassure the dwarf. Gimli probably didn't know about the poison, and waved them forwards. "Let's get moving!" he said roughly, and they moved on.  
  
Haldir said nothing, respecting Legolas' wish. Legolas would never let himself be held back by injuries; he would never sit idly by in battle, and Haldir knew it was useless to argue, for Legolas hated to receive sympathy, and even more so, pity. So Haldir was silent. But he never left Legolas' side.  
  
When they rejoined the heat of the battle, Aragorn's voice could be clearly heard above the clatter. "Nan Barad! Nan Barad!" He cried, and men ran past him to the keep. He spotted Haldir. "Haldir! Nan Barad!"  
  
Haldir nodded quickly, and began to fight his way towards it. But a swift blow caught his right side, and he staggered momentarily. Legolas saw another orc come up behind him and raise his weapon.  
  
{That cannot happen.}  
  
He dived at Haldir shoving him out of the way, and the blade hit stone. Haldir looked at him in silent thanks.  
  
"Sorry if I hurt you," Legolas said, with a smile. But Haldir merely shook his head. Legolas lifted the captain to his feet. Haldir leaned heavily on Legolas, and they made their way to the keep.  
  
* * *  
  
Aragorn came up to Theoden, and glanced at the shaky gate and struggling men. Theoden gave the order to brace the gate. Aragorn looked to Theoden.  
  
"How long do you need?"  
  
"As long as you can give me."  
  
Aragorn nodded and hurried off, snagging Gimli and dragging him in the opposite direction he had been going.  
  
"Ach, what are you doing, there laddie?" he cried, struggling against Aragorn's hold.  
  
Aragorn released him. "You are coming with me," he said, leaving no room for argument, and they carried on. Quickly enough they found a side gate that the orcs had not yet found. It was a long distance from where they stood to the attacking orcs. Gimli looked at them, and compared them to those Legolas had been fighting. "Oh, come on, we can take 'em!"  
  
Aragorn looked curiously at the dwarf. He glanced to the gap between them and the enemy, and back at Gimli. "It's a long way."  
  
He let Gimli think for a while. Quietly, and with great reluctance, the dwarf spoke. "Toss me."  
  
"What?" Aragorn laughed, recalling the incident in Moria. He had heard the dwarf, but he wanted to hear it again.  
  
"I cannot jump the distance so you'll have to toss me!" said Gimli angrily, knowing Aragorn had heard him the first time. Aragorn grabbed Gimli by the shoulders. "Ehhh . . ." Aragorn stopped. "Don't tell the elf," he pleaded.  
  
Aragorn smiled. "Not a word." And he hurled Gimli into the swarming orcs, and leaped after him. They battled well, slaughtering many of the beasts. It wasn't long before Aragorn heard Theoden call through the gate, "Gimli! Aragorn! Get out of there!'  
  
Both looked around them for a way out, but to no avail. Suddenly both were lifted up by an orc.  
  
"Aragorn!" came a voice from above, and both looked up to see Legolas tossing a rope to them. Aragorn bashed the orc in the ribs, forcing it to let go. He and Gimli grabbed onto the rope, and with Haldir helping Legolas as much as he could, they were pulled to safely.  
  
Aragorn noticed Legolas' wound. He glanced from the arrow to Legolas' face, in silent question. But Legolas said nothing, but smiled, and looped Haldir's arm over his shoulder, letting the elf lean on him. Then all four of them turned back to the battle. But suddenly a great cry went up among the enemy. They had finally broken through the gate. Shouts went up all around them to pull back, to retreat, to get into the keep.  
  
The four looked at each other worriedly, but set off to the keep. Legolas ran along firing the last of his arrows, and keeping Haldir on his feet. Gimli swung at orcs that leered a little too close, and Aragorn covered their back.  
  
When they reached Theoden and the others within, the resounding booms of a ram against the inner door was already threatening them. Aragorn went to Theoden.  
  
"The fortress is taken. It is over."  
  
Legolas picked up Theoden's despairing words as he let go of a dazed Haldir and propped him up against the wall. Aragorn's angry shouts came next.  
  
"You said this would never fall while your men defend it. They still defend it! They have died defending it!"  
  
Legolas found a table and ran it over to the door as a brace. Theoden didn't respond to Aragorn.  
  
"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Aragorn asked. Gamling hesitated and no answer came. "Is there no other way?" Aragorn repeated, louder and more irate. Finally Gamling spoke of a passage into the mountains, and Aragorn sent the order for them to get moving, and also for them to barricade the entrance.  
  
"So much death . . ." Theoden spoke suddenly. "What can men do against such reckless hate?"  
  
Aragorn looked at the hopeless king. "Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them."  
  
The idea seemed to strike Theoden, and some life returned to his dazed manner. "For death and glory."  
  
"For Rohan. For your people."  
  
Legolas watched as vigour slowly returned to the King. He wondered how the man had lost hope so easily. He watched Gimli run up the tower, and listened as the earth-shaking sound of the Horn of Helm Hammerhand sounded in the Deep. Horses were brought to those remaining. Legolas pulled Haldir onto his horse, holding him in front.  
  
Suddenly the orcs broke down the door, only to be met with the tiny army on horseback.  
  
"FORTH EORLINGAS!" cried Theoden. The three of them rode out, clearing a path for those without horses to follow. Legolas spun his knives on either side of him, managing to balance Haldir amid the slaughter.  
  
Suddenly, a bright light to the east shone in the corner of Legolas' vision. At first, he presumed it was the rising sun. But when he turned to face it, it proved far, far different.  
  
There stood an older man, clothed in white robes, light streaming from his being and down the slope upon which he stood. At first, Legolas thought for a frightened moment that it was Saruman. But no, as he looked closer, the face was familiar, and the sparkle in the eyes was warm.  
  
There was Gandalf.  
  
Legolas nearly forgot where he was and what he was doing. How had Gandalf returned? He looked at Aragorn, but found no surprise in his face . . .merely joy. Suddenly, behind the wizard rode up many warriors, mounted upon horses. They held spears and swords, and their shields bore the mark of the Rohirrim.  
  
They galloped down the impossibly steep slope, leaping over the spears of the orcs, clashing with the enemy. Legolas was brought back to reality, and fought on with renewed vigour. Haldir muttered something, but Legolas didn't hear it. He leaned closer to Haldir's face.  
  
"Have I died?"  
  
Legolas looked around. Haldir must have lost consciousness somewhere along the way. The newcomers were driving the orcs away. The enemy was retreating.  
  
"No, Haldir!" Legolas cried in joy, almost laughing. "We have won!"  
  
* * *  
  
HAHA! HALDIR LIVES! How could I let him die, seriously?! I'm not THAT sadistic!  
  
GGJ: More enough for you?  
  
Lady of the Forest1: You can change your name if you go to settings on your login screen. Maybe just add on a word, or a lucky number. Capitalization works too.  
  
Merrylyn: I think we're making Legolas jealous with our Tirdin- obsessivness. Hehe. Poor little elffies. You're a bit of a Haldir fan, aren't you? Well, HALDIR LIVES! HAHA!  
  
Pirate-chicha: Interesting spelling of reunion. Heh.  
  
Boromir: Alright, I hurried! Fast enough for you?  
  
Coolio02: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Kaimelieamin: Oh my god, YOU'RE BACK! Wow, where'd you go? *hands SUHET bumpersticker and patch *  
  
Sirithiliel: Gimli's a fun character to write. The comic-relief dwarf.  
  
I'm going on vacation to Kelowna on Sunday for a week. I'll try to write a bit while I'm out there, but don't expect a fast update this time! Sorry, but vacations happen. ^.^  
  
Namarie!  
  
Please be kind and leave a review!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	28. Healing

Disclaimer: I own Quessetal, and nothing, and no one, else! So saddening!  
  
A/N: I'm back from Kelowna! WHOOP! Actually I got back last week, but I had to write this before posting it, right? I'm also now kind of hooked on Shakespere, from seeing A Midsummers Night Dream down there. ^.^  
  
I think SUHET has a new project: HALDIR LIVES t-shirts. Yes, yes! And also my assistant manager, Rubber Armed Waldorf, would like to say hello. Waldorf and I also manufacture beans and chopsticks, and we plan to take over Germania. ^.^  
  
So here's the long awaited chapter! Without further ado, I present to you, CHAPTER 28!  
  
* * *  
  
Helms Deep was caught in a glorious sadness, a net straining their triumphant joy. For though women and children would run to their battered loved ones, not all had that chance. Amidst the love and relief, there was immense loss. Many, many of the people of Rohan had been slain, and an even smaller percentage of the elves survived. Some searched the ruins desperately for an absent friend, praying that they might yet be alive; others merely knew in their hearts of death, and knelt down to weep.  
  
Legolas knelt by an unconscious Haldir. The prince of Mirkwood had been trained to fight, not to heal; but he knew enough. He removed Haldir's armour, light though it was, knowing it would prove to be a burden for the wounded elf, and carefully lifted the tunic over Haldir's golden head. A long gash ran across his side, crimson ribbons strung out in all directions. The cut was deep, and Haldir had lost much blood during the battle. Legolas never liked the image of such things, and suppressed a shudder. Even when he was a mere elfling, the sight of blood had never been something he had taken lightly.  
  
Legolas reached for the water and cloth. Washing away the leaking blood, he began to clean the wound.  
  
Aragorn watched, unnoticed, from behind as Legolas tended to their friend. He watched Legolas clean the great cut so tenderly, completely disregarding the arrow in his own shoulder and wound on his arm. After the terrors Aragorn could only guess Legolas had gone through, he could still care so deeply.  
  
Haldir began to wake. He stirred, and hissed in pain as feeling rushed back into his body.  
  
"Hush, mellon nin, este si," Legolas soothed. Not fully awake, yet not unconscious either, Haldir relaxed somewhat at his friend's gentle voice.  
  
A young soldier suddenly came walking briskly by, and in his rush he accidentally kicked Legolas' foot, causing the elf's hand to slip hard into Haldir's side. The wounded elf started and cried out, clasping Legolas' arm. The soldier turned at Haldir's cry. He saw Haldir's grimace, and both Aragorn and Legolas' bitter stares. Guessing accurately at what had happened, he shouted some frantic, though sincere, apologizes, and continued on his way.  
  
Legolas turned back to Haldir. The elf's eyes were nearly shut and his breathing harsh and uneven.  
  
{Look how you hurt him more.}  
  
Legolas lowered his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, though he knew not too. Haldir grinned weakly, as if to say that is was not his fault.  
  
"Le na m?n edhel, ernil," he whispered so softly that Legolas had to bend down to hear him.  
  
{And yet still he thanks you. You elves puzzle me.}  
  
Legolas went back to the wound. "Le teithgurth nino, Im úva vanwa le gurthesse," he reasoned.  
  
But Haldir only smiled. "Arat edhel," he insisted.  
  
Soon the elf had fallen back into unconsciousness, and Legolas had finished cleansing the wound. Reluctant to leave his friend, he rose. "Echoir úsio," he bade the elf, and turned only to meet Aragorn's stern and ever impassive eyes. He stopped.  
  
"How does he fare?" Aragorn spoke first, glancing over Legolas' shoulder to their friend, concern evident in his voice.  
  
"The cut has stopped bleeding, and he is out of the gravest danger now. I go to fetch bandages." Without another word, Legolas moved behind Legolas and went of seeking the bandages he spoke of. He knew he was acting coldly to Aragorn, but Haldir needed his aid now, and he wanted to bandage the wound quickly, without a risk of infection.  
  
Legolas came upon another elf not too far off, who had a good amount alongside him. The elf had no more use of the bandages, and handed them happily off to Legolas.  
  
"Whom do you tend to, prince Legolas?" he asked before Legolas left.  
  
"Haldir. But worry not!" he added, dimming the initial worry on the elf's face. "He fares well."  
  
The elf nodded, and Legolas swept back. Haldir was still unconscious, and Legolas set quickly to wrapping the cut. But the movement of his injured and poisoned arm made him wince, and as he continued, he had to bite back his cry. He felt Aragorn's gaze on his back.  
  
"Why do you stay here, Aragorn?" Legolas wanted to be alone just this time. There was much he felt the need to repay Haldir for, and he knew that Aragorn might not understand. With another turn of the bandage, Legolas tried to suppress his cringe.  
  
Aragorn's eyes wandered to the arrow shaft still protruding from Legolas' shoulder. "You need to get your wounds treated."  
  
Legolas paused for a moment, then continued to wrap the bandage. "Haldir needs to be tended to."  
  
"Aye, that he does! I care no less for him than I do for you. But," he went on, "Another healer can bandage him, it is no extraordinary skill."  
  
Legolas laughed softly. "Should I be insulted?"  
  
Aragorn grinned. "Perhaps. But your wounds bleed still, and I do not want them to become infected. You must get them treated."  
  
Legolas thought for a moment how to word his thoughts. "I owe him this."  
  
Aragorn softened. He did not know all that had happened since he had left Lothlorien, nor did he know of Legolas' faring during the battle of the past night. But somewhere amongst it, he guessed, Haldir had aided Legolas greatly. And, knowing his friend as well as he did, Legolas would not let his debt go unpaid.  
  
"Very well."  
  
But as Legolas went on, the bandaging became slower, and less efficient. Aragorn noticed his friend's struggle, and the pain that would occasionally cross his face. He came and knelt beside Legolas.  
  
"At least let me finish this, if you will not let any other, and go and have your wounds treated."  
  
"I will tend to them myself, when I am finished here." Perhaps he could let a friend, or one who knew a little at least of him, see his scars, but not these strangers. Not these strangers who would not understand.  
  
Aragorn rolled his eyes. "The elves are graceful and can move in many ways a man cannot, but I have difficulty believing that you will easily clean that shoulder wound." He nodded at the arrow in the lower part of Legolas' shoulder. Legolas glanced back at it. He shrugged. He could, if he tried, he thought to himself. But then, it would not be that simple, and the treatment not too effective.  
  
"At least let me treat it."  
  
Legolas looked at Aragorn, his nimble hands still working with the bandage. Yes, he could let Aragorn see. "Alright."  
  
There was not much more to do, but in the end, Aragorn ended up finishing wrapping Haldir's wound, as Legolas watched, frustrated, and gently cradling his arm.  
  
They both looked at Haldir a moment, but the elf seemed at peace, and though reluctantly, Legolas followed Aragorn away. He smiled to himself, and silently thanked Aragorn for choosing to go to a quieter place. Perhaps Aragorn sensed his uneasiness, perhaps he had guessed that Legolas would likely have scars, and would be unwilling to show them. Whatever the cause, Legolas was grateful.  
  
"Oh, wait . . ."  
  
Aragorn turned in confusion, but didn't have to ask as Legolas called over another elf.  
  
"Quessetal, come here a moment!" An idle elf, obviously younger and eager to be of use, jogged over. "Watch over Haldir," he instructed, pointing at the captain, "and find me when he wakens."  
  
Quessetal stared at his leader. "What happened to him?" he asked, obviously worried. Most of Haldir's soldiers knew him well, and loved him.  
  
"An orc blade caught his side, but he is healing quick. Worry not for him, but find me when he wakes. I shall not be far off." With that, the two turned and left.  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
Legolas tried to think of how to phrase it. "He is . . .a young and curious elf, whom I befriended on the march here." There was more to it than that. Quessetal was indeed young, and even more so curious. It had been his first real battle, this one, Legolas now recalled, and resolved to talk to the young one later. But on the second night of their march, the bold young elf had approached Legolas. He had been nervous about the upcoming fight, and had been asking questions and looking for advice. Legolas had offered what he could, and after, the young elf had tentatively asked if he had any scars. He had started to say no, but something stopped him. He had realized that this was his reality. This world, where scars were common. And his perhaps stood out among others, but there they were. If he could not accept that, then he would be living in a shadow forever. And so he had shown Quessetal his front and back, and the elf had stared in awe. And then he had said, "These aren't all battle wounds, are they?" It was half statement, half question. Legolas had replied with a shake of his head. The young elf knew of Legolas' capture, and looked into Legolas' sparkling blue orbs. "Did he do this to you?" Legolas nodded. And though he had despised the sorrow, and perhaps sympathy, in the elf's eyes, he could not help it. The rest of the journey, Quessetal had become a good friend to Legolas, and he was now glad that he had not been slain in the night.  
  
Aragorn stepped behind Legolas. He had gathered more bandages, and had water and a rag to clean the wound. Legolas felt him place his hands on the arrow, waiting until Legolas was ready. Legolas took a few deep breaths, then nodded, gritting his teeth. Aragorn yanked the arrow from its place, and immediately more blood began to flow. Legolas hardly moved, practicing the art of hiding his pain. An art he had learned as a prince, and an art he had perfected in capture.  
  
"You will have to remove your tunic, or else I will not be able to treat it properly," said Aragorn, but Legolas was already moving, already lifting the torn and bloodstained garment over his head. His golden hair swept over his slender shoulders that were still so much more fragile than they had been before Isengard. Aragorn had his eyes on the water bowl, soaking the cloth, as Legolas waited somewhat . . .what was it? Perhaps anxiously, for his friend to turn about.  
  
Aragorn quickly soaked the cloth in the water, and turned to face Legolas.  
  
He stopped.  
  
There was his friend's bare back that he remembered as being so smooth and so fair. But here there were scars, so, so many scars, all over the once flawless flesh. Some were just faint but some were more solid, deeper.  
  
"Aragorn, are you still there?" Legolas asked, knowing perfectly well that the man was right behind him, and knowing perfectly well what had stopped him. Aragorn shook himself from his trance, and moved to clean the wound. As he dabbed away, questions began forming his mind. He suddenly wanted very much to know what had happened to his friend.  
  
The water stung a little, but any observers would never guess that. Not a muscle moved to show Legolas' agitation. He knew Aragorn would want to know things. He knew that Aragorn, like Haldir and Tirdin, would want to hear his evil tale.  
  
Aragorn finished cleansing the cut and wiping away the spilling blood, and then bandaged it. "Now your arm."  
  
Legolas turned around. Again, Aragorn was caught off-guard by the cruel scars over his flesh. Legolas despised the horror in Aragorn's stare, almost as much as he hated being stared at. But he merely stared in return, hard, trying to raise Aragorn's eyes and bring him back from his wonderings and thoughts.  
  
But Aragorn came back on his own, remembering that his friend hated that kind of attention. He took Legolas' injured arm gently, but a wave of pain shot up it nonetheless. Aragorn looked at the wound for a moment. The flesh around it was a deep purple. After a little more observation, he spoke.  
  
"This arrow was poisoned."  
  
Legolas nodded. "Aye. I knew."  
  
Aragorn looked up into the elf's brilliant blue orbs, deadly serious, and that little light of fear in his own darker eyes. "And yet you did not do anything about it?" Offering an apologetic and somewhat bemused smile, Legolas shook his head. Aragorn shook his head and immediately began to treat it, drawing some herbs from the pouch at his belt. "Ai, ai, my friend! You are hopeless!" he chided, and Legolas only laughed, despite the dire situation.  
  
Aragorn put to work his advanced healing abilities, using leaves and other things to slow and stop the poison before it got too far to threaten Legolas' life. Judging by the look of the wound, and also by the fact that Legolas was still standing, the venom was not too serious, but it was poison nonetheless, and had to be treated as if it were fatal; else it might just become so.  
  
Finally at ease as Aragorn dealt with his arm, Legolas felt the painful effects of the poison again, rushing past the barrier that had been built by adrenaline and action. He felt that it had indeed gotten far into his body, his legs aching greatly, his other wound burning again, and the pain increasing with every second. Luckily Aragorn was able to stop the poison from delving deeper, but Legolas felt himself weakening, and he only just held his passive mask and stable manner.  
  
"Prince Legolas, Haldir has awoken."  
  
Both man and elf jumped at the voice, for not even Legolas' extreme hearing had heard Quessetal behind them. Legolas turned first in surprise, but then laughed. "Oh, my friend, your name suits you well!" he said, and the other laughed as well, for Quessetal means "feather foot".  
  
Legolas turned back to Aragorn, and before he could ask, Aragorn responded, "We are done here, then, and let us return to our friend." Aragorn did not miss the fact that Quessetal seemed uninterested in Legolas' unusually scarred body. Legolas slid his tunic over his head once again, and all three of them found their way back to Haldir, who was now sitting, back against the wall, and a much more conscious expression on his face.  
  
"Ah, my friends, I see your wounds have been treated," he said happily, mostly indicating Legolas. But Aragorn's healing would still take some time to fully eliminate the poison, and Legolas sat heavily down beside Haldir, most of his body aching dearly.  
  
He smiled quietly at his friend. "I am glad to see you awake and somewhat well again, Haldir," he said.  
  
For some time the four remained there, chatting lively, and recounting the events of the past night. Quessetal told excitedly of his first battle among Haldir's army, and it seemed that he had indeed fought well. Legolas told of his dire situation, surrounded by the many foes, and of Haldir and Gimli's rescue, even as Gimli joined them. Aragorn too spoke light- heartedly of his affairs with Eomer son of Eomund, and with King Theoden. Gimli then spoke of his battle, and told proudly that his count was now 42. When he had asked Legolas of his faring, the elf had suddenly realized he had not been keeping track, and made up a devious lie. "Alas for you, my friend, for I have beaten you by one, with a count of 43!" And oh, how Gimli had moaned, "to be beaten by an elf!" he had said. But they had all laughed, Quessetal and Haldir both liking this particular dwarf a little more.  
  
After some time, their merriment died down to a quiet contentment. Now they were all sitting against the wall, Legolas nearly asleep, and the others occasionally talking or just lost in their own thoughts. But they were all content in that they were alive and their faces were peaceful.  
  
Legolas was reliving the glorious end of the battle, and suddenly remembered something.  
  
"Excuse me, but I have some matters to attend to," he explained, rising quickly, feeling much better than before with Aragorn's healing. Aragorn also stood.  
  
"As do I. We will see you both," he indicated Quessetal and Haldir, "ere you depart."  
  
And so the two old friends walked away, finding that indeed they were both seeking the same person. They wandered the chambers of the place, then going outside, and stepping through the ruins of rock and life. Soon enough they found their quarry. Legolas' eyes brightened, and he ran forth.  
  
"Mithrandir, Mithrandir!" he called out, and the wizard in white robes turned about, and a twinkle sparked in his eyes as he spotted the elf coming towards him.  
  
"Ah, Legolas, here you are!" he said happily, as he came to a graceful and sudden halt before his wizard friend. Legolas could not deny the joy, could not fight it back, and it glowed on his every feature.  
  
"Mithrandir! What wizardry is this, for here you are living before my very eyes!"  
  
Gandalf laughed. "Oh, my dear elf, I believe I could ask you the same thing." He winked at Legolas, as if he knew everything, as if he knew what had become of Legolas since his fall. And how unfair that was, for Legolas knew nothing of Gandalf.  
  
Here was Gandalf the grey, now Gandalf the white, it seemed. But Legolas had seen him fall, he had! And yet he was alive! Oh how Legolas took joy in that sight, that seemingly impossible sight, and how the delight shone on his face, such as it never had before. To have this friend, this old friend of his, dead! He had never thought he would see him again, never! But here he was, as alive as ever could be. Tears brimmed in Legolas' flaming blue eyes, though he suppressed them. He then turned to listen to the conversation now between Gandalf, Theoden, Eomer, and three other men who Legolas had not heard of. Aragorn joined them, and Gimli, having followed them in his restlessness, jogged up as well.  
  
"And what may be the answer to your riddle?" asked Theoden, continuing their conversation.  
  
"If you would learn that, you should come with me to Isengard," answered Gandalf. All of them there stared in shock.  
  
"To Isengard?" cried one of the anonymous men.  
  
"Yes," said Gandalf. "I shall return to Isengard, and those who will may come with me. There we may see strange things."  
  
"But there are not men enough in the Mark, not if they were all gathered together and healed of wounds and weariness, to assault the stronghold of Saruman," protested Theoden. But Legolas felt that Gandalf was not going to assault. That would be a thoughtless and stupid move.  
  
"Nevertheless to Isengard I go," persisted Gandalf. "I shall not stay there long. My way lies now eastward. Look for me in Edoras, ere the waning of the moon!"  
  
"Nay!" said Theoden suddenly. "In the dark hour before dawn I doubted, but we will not part now. I will come with you, if that is your counsel."  
  
Gandalf smiled, approving the decision. "I wish to speak with Saruman, as soon as may be now," he said, "and since he has done you great injury, it would be fitting if you were there. But how soon and how swiftly will you ride?"  
  
The King thought for a moment. "My men are weary with battle," he said; "and I am weary also. For I have ridden far and slept little. Alas! My old age is not feigned nor due only to the whisperings of Wormtongue." He spat out the name. "It is an ill that no leech can wholly cure, not even Gandalf."  
  
Then Gandalf bade those who were to come rest. They were to journey under the shadow of evening. Not many men were to accompany them, for Gandalf spoke of a parley, not a fight.  
  
So now four remained of the Fellowship. Pippin and Merry were still lost in the wilds, and Frodo and Sam somewhere in Mordor. Though somewhat nervous about the approaching visit to Isengard, Legolas did not dwell on his worries. The four then wandered, Gandalf and Legolas speaking of where they had been, Gandalf first telling of his dark tale, and then, though reluctant at first, Legolas began to tell of his yet darker tale. Then they had stopped to wander, and sat upon small boulders, listening in horror, sorrow, and morbid fascination. This time Legolas was not bombarded with cruel and unrelenting memories. This time it was merely a story, and there was also some pride in it. Pride that he had survived, and was here, well again.  
  
A silence passed as he finished. Aragorn was staring distractedly at Legolas' boots, lost in the story and in his thoughts. Gimli was staring in awe. And yet Gandalf seemed somewhat sad, but otherwise unaffected, and again Legolas had the suspicion that he had known all along.  
  
Then they got up together, as if by a silent decision shared by them all. No one spoke for a while, until Gimli stumbled over a rock, and they all burst out in laughter. Life and merriment had now returned in full to Legolas' life. He walked as he always had, unhindered and unworried. And oh, how good it felt.  
  
* * *  
  
Translations for elvish stuff:  
  
Hush, mellon nin, este si: Hush, my friend, rest now.  
  
Le na m?n edhel, ernil: You are a good elf, prince.  
  
Le teithgurth nino, Im úva vanwa le gurthesse: You drew me from death, I will not loose you in death.  
  
Arat edhel: Noble elf  
  
And I think that was it for the elvish.  
  
No, that is not the end. There are definitely more chapters to come! Oo, I guarentee you, the next chapter will be goooooooooooood. I have my devious mind already working on it. Mwahahahahaha.  
  
Now, I have something that is not sarcastic to say. I was in Kelowna for a week, as I told you, living in paradise and having the time of my life. But then only a few days after I leave, all these fires come up there. And now with 30,000 people evacuated, it's hard to believe that only a few days before I was living in paradise. There was a picture in the paper of a hillside of beautiful houses, houses we were looking at as we zoomed past in our boat. The fire was licking away. I ask that you all pray for the people in Kelowna who have lost something to the flames.  
  
Okay. On a bit of a happier note, here's the review responses. I also have those here from chapter 26, which came after I posted chapter 27, so here's the other chapter 26 ones first:  
  
Peapod: Heh, I'm flattered that I'm your, hm, rebooter, shall we say, for the LOTR fics? Anyways, thanks for reviewing!  
  
Zelda: Yes, I did like your website! Very well structured, good job! And, as for slash, I was pondering turning this into a slash (thanks to GGJ *glare *), but decided not to, as that would add a whole other subplot, and the current main plot is enough for me! Also I'd have to deal with the whole Aragorn-Arwen issue, and I hate that, so yeah. But I may be doing one in the future, we'll see. As for this fic, no worries, it will stay slash free! Though I apologize if I get a little too close around the friendship stuff. Heh.  
  
And now chapter 27 reviews!  
  
GGJ: I am sorry I left you, but . . .well, I left you. But yeah. Hehe. And you used my muses in your review. They are MINE! *hugs Nifien and Tirdin protectively * You little chibi thingy there is WAY too bouncy. You need to like, hit her over the head with a stapler a few times. =p  
  
Pirate-chicha: Hehe. I'm sorry, but I'm going to be able to heed your plea for no more torture. =) That's right, you'll see in the next chapter, my friends! HAHAHAHA!  
  
Merrylyn: Wow. Hyper child! Dude, you alone seem to have enough energy to take over, say, Hungary! You should join with me and GGJ in our world domination. Mwahahahaha. And yes, poor Legolas. There are just too many elves out there! So much hotness, so little time. *sigh * And sorry this couldn't be another insanely quick update, but maybe there'll be another in the future? NO PROMISES. Heh.  
  
Kaimelieamin: Welcome back, Kaimelieamin the Bleached! Heh. Well, we are all good and happy that you did not disappear, and that you returned from the dead. ^.^ And yes, why would we want Legolas to be tortured . . .? *cackles evily and plots in her Plotting Corner *  
  
HalandLeg4ever: Yes, that is one thing we would kill Peter Jackson for, right, Haldir? *Haldir nods vigorously * But we still need him, until ROTK extended is released, and THEN we can go after him. Mwahahahhaha. I can see the headlines now: "Famed director mobbed by crazed fangirls!"  
  
Sirithiliel: Hopefully I put the right number of "i"s in your name. Heh.  
  
Coolio02: Sorry I couldn't really update soon, but at least I updated, right?  
  
Ankhesanamun: OH NO! YOUR FISH DIED! *bawls * Sorry, I have a thing for fish. My sister has a goldfish and we also have a 33 gallon tank, in of which are 6 catfish which I have grown quite attached to. I assure you I would fall into a fit of depression if one died. But Parksville is cool, eh? My uncle lives on the beach down there..like, seriously, it's his backyard, then the breakwater wall, then sand, then the ocean. It's AWESOME. Hm, Naneth, you say? Well, what do ya know, lucky guess for me! Heh. Thanks for your help, by the way.  
  
Irish QT: *batts eyelashes * Why thank you! Glad to be of inspiration to you.  
  
Lady of the Forest1: Yay, everyone loves Haldir! WHOOP! Good thing I have no Haldir-haters here . . .or at least that I know of . . .*glances around suspiciously *  
  
Peapod: Who said I was waiting for the movie? THIS FIC NOW GOES TO BOOK VERSE! Though I will probably work in some of the spoilers I've read on ROTK. So there may be a slight change in my writing from here on in, because of constant reference to Tolkien, and also because I will have to copy out lines of dialogue now and again.  
  
Shanya: I wonder what Tolkien would say if he saw the films? Would he approve, or be outraged, or both? Hm. Interesting.  
  
Menthol: OH MY GOD! SOMEONE WHO LIKES NIFIEN! You must be one of the only! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! *fly tackles Menthol * But no, I'm sorry, I don't think she'll appear again.  
  
Mrs. Isaacs: Wow. You have no idea how satisfying it was to listen to you rage on while you read it. It was the most pleasing thing I've ever read, I think. ^.^ And please tell Jason that he has my sincerest apologizes, as I did not mean to drive you out of your mind.  
  
Well, that's all for now, folks! Until next time, please be kind and review, and remember critiques are my best friend, and always, always appreciated! School starts in a week, so unless I update this week (har har har), then it may take a while again. I'm so sorry I keep having long delays, but yeah. Really, I truly am sorry!  
  
Toodles!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


	29. Master of His Art

Disclaimer: I OWN ONLY THOSE THAT I OWN, IF YOU'VE READ THE REST, YOU KNOW IT ALL.  
  
Alrighty doods. I am FINALLY here. This chapter was KILLING me, and I am unhappy with a good chunk of it, but it's here now, and that's the good news. Read the bad news at the end, I wouldn't want to burden your Legolas angst time. I am EXTREMELY sorry for the wait. But there will be no more. Seriously. READ ON, YOUNG GRASSHOPPERS!!!!!!!!!  
  
* * *  
  
Meriadoc Brandybuck put his arms behind his head and leaned back against one of the great stones littering the foggy landscape. A thin stream of smoke spewed from his lips when he parted them. He glanced over at his snoring companion-snoring quite loudly-and wanted very dearly to smack him good and hard. A litter of empty dishes rested around them in lazy carelessness. The day so far had been quite uneventful, but it was a well- needed rest from the great adventures of late.  
  
Merry stared hard into the fog, but still couldn't see very far. Treebeard had bade them wait for visitors and welcome them with fitting words-visitors which he had hinted they would be please to see; as of yet, no sign of such a thing had passed their sight. But they remained, with the hope that Aragorn and Gimli may be there.  
  
Suddenly Merry stopped in the middle of a blue smoke ring, and jumped up. For out of the mist had appeared a great host upon horseback, that through his thoughts, Merry had failed to notice. He went forward, and turned to the king.  
  
"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he said, his arms spread wide in welcome. "We are the door wardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc is my name; and my companion, who, alas, is overcome with weariness . . ." he gave Pippin a swift boot in the ribs, "it Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the house of Took." Legolas grinned and chuckled quietly to himself, humoured that the hobbits were indeed still very much the same. "Far in the North is our home. The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted with one Wormtongue, or, doubtless, he would be here to welcome such honourable guests."  
  
Then Gandalf laughed, as if he had known the hobbits would be here. Legolas wondered how everything had come to be this way. Could the imprisonment by the uruk-hai have changed the hobbits a little? At the moment, it certainly did not seem so. Merry went on to say that he had been commanded to offer such words of welcome. Then Legolas felt Gimli shift behind him.  
  
"And what about your companions? What about us?" the dwarf cried, unable to contain himself. He jumped off the horse. "You rascals, you woolly-footed and wool-pated truants! A fine hunt you have led us! Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and idling-and smoking! Smoking!" Legolas was thinking that for sure, Gimli would launch into full attack and hew the little ones' heads from their shoulders. "Where did you come by the weed, you villains? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!"  
  
Then Legolas laughed. "You speak for me, Gimli!" he said happily. "Though I would sooner learn how they came by the wine."  
  
"Legolas!" the hobbits cried together, Pippin suddenly leaping from his slumber. Their mouths gaped open as they gazed upon the fair elf, which only made Legolas laugh again. Aragorn, too, was grinning uncontrollably at the hobbits' dumbfounded expressions, though they quickly turned to unrestrained joy, and both started speaking at once.  
  
The elf grinned and laughed again. "Ah, little hobbits! Too long it has been since last I saw you!"  
  
Just as Merry and Pippin opened their mouths again, Gandalf held up a hand. "There will be time enough for questions in a moment. But first, tell me, where is Treebeard?"  
  
"Away on the North side, I believe," said Merry. And so Theoden and Gandalf rode off in search of the Ent, leaving the members of the Fellowship alone. A bit of a debate took place between Merry and Gimli, until they resolved to seek out some lunch before their tales be told. Eventually, they had settled down with some food and, in Gimli, Aragorn, and the hobbits' case, some pipeweed. The vile smell made Legolas want to gag, but he held back, wondering how in all Middle-earth his friends could stand it.  
  
First, Pippin and Merry began weaving their tale-though not after pleading for Legolas' story-and the pieces began to fall into place for Gimli and Aragorn. They nodded along, speaking up when their hunt fit in. Legolas listened carefully, intrigued by this. He noted how the hobbits had received hardly the rough treatment he had, when in the custody of the Uruk-hai. He decided that the hobbits had been sent for . . .he had not. He had merely been a prize . . .a gift . . .a trophy.  
  
{Why, then, would he taint a "trophy" so?"} His thoughts rang with a biting, cynical tone.  
  
{A trophy is a possession. You would not cooperate, little elf. You had to be broken.}  
  
Legolas snarled inwardly. {Why break a gift? Why even bruise it?}  
  
{To make it obedient . . .to make it bend to the master's every will.}  
  
{But you never did, did you? You never completely caught me. And now you've lost your prize.}  
  
The voice chuckled. {You speak as if I were the one who tormented you.}  
  
{How else would you know my secrets?}  
  
And the voice was quiet. A soft itch of fear took the elf.  
  
{. . .Who are you?}  
  
{You'll find out, little prince. You're very close.}  
  
{Cease your pretty riddles! Who are you?}  
  
{You'll know. You'll know very soon.}  
  
{ANSWER ME!}  
  
The voice snickered. {First there was sorrow . . .now there is anger.}  
  
Legolas did not retort. He shouldn't have let the voice see his anger. Of course, it had always been there. How could he not have been angry? How could those long, long days in the dreary, hope-forsaken dungeons not have roused his anger? He knew within himself that if given such a chance, he would fight Saruman. Oh, how he would fight him! If it took his own life to do it, he would have Saruman spend his last, blurring sight, his last fading thought, on the elf he had once used to his own sadistic pleasures. What delight he would take in that moment, what satisfaction when the Istar's chest stood still. .  
  
Then, horrified at his own evil thoughts, with a subtle shake of his head, he banished them, and returned his focus to the present. But the voice left him with one final statement.  
  
{And you're wrong. He did not loose you. As long as you are alive, a part of you shall be his. And another shall be mine.}  
  
Legolas could only hope that nothing showed through his face.  
  
{No.}  
  
{. . .And your father shall forever be his.}  
  
Almost too enraged to think properly, Legolas shook his golden-crowned head again, and tuned back in to the tales being told.  
  
Gimli and Aragorn were just finishing their story of the hunt for the hobbits, and now were telling excitedly of Helms Deep. Legolas pasted the same animated expression on his face, and joined in, speaking of the heroics of Haldir, and of his friend Quessetal. The hobbits merely gawked all the while, mouths agape; no doubt relieved they had been left out of the mess-though apologetic that Treebeard and the Ents had not come to their aid.  
  
Suddenly, their tale was done, and it was Legolas' turn to weave his own dark tale yet again. He felt the hobbits' eyes trained fiercely on him. Aragorn, he knew, had retreated to his own thoughts, not wishing in the least to have to hear the story another time. He shut his eyes briefly, and launched into the none-too-gentle account.  
  
"When we were in Lothlorien, I was wandering on my own . . .a band of orcs attacked me. They were far too many, and they managed to capture me." He thought for a moment how to continue. "I was brought to Isengard, and held in the dreary dungeons. There were orcs who would whip me, for hours on end, until my own blood pooled at my feet. Then, when I could not stand on my own any longer, they would mock me. Sometimes they would only beat me more, until I could hardly move."  
  
"But you could fight them off, couldn't you, Legolas?" Pippin asked softly, in both horror and hope that the elven warrior had not been completely helpless. In the time he had known Legolas, he had quickly dubbed him the most skilled fighter he ever had seen. He would go into battle and return with hardly a scratch. He couldn't believe that Legolas had merely . . .let them do this to him.  
  
Legolas shook his head sadly, and continued, his voice quieter, but still a monotone. "Saruman came up with other tortures . . .he broke my hand and my leg brutally; he would scald me with a hot iron . . .once he set my leg alight . . ." He left it at that. "He called my father to him. He asked for his life in return for mine. The first time he denied." He paused, preparing himself for his own words. "But later, he returned without summoning. And . . .my father let Saruman kill him. The first time, I was the only one who stopped him from giving in. This time I was under a spell, and I couldn't see him . . .or hear him . . .I couldn't stop him . . ." Legolas forced down his furious tears. He glanced shyly up at the hobbits. "Haldir took me back to Lothlorien." Searching their faces, and glancing over at Aragorn, he then dropped his eyes. Unexpectedly, Legolas felt Aragorn's rough hand on his slender shoulder. Suddenly he was very thankful that Aragorn was there with him. Aragorn squeezed his shoulder. Legolas shut his eyes tight. Part of him wanted the comfort, while the other half shunned it, knowing that it would break his carefully crafted mask, and let everything flow free.  
  
He waited for the hobbits, or anyone, to say something. He hadn't said everything in this account of the story. The hobbits were too young to hear such things. When he had told it to his other friends, they had indeed witnessed a wild tale. Now, as it seemed to happen every time, they sat there in an awkward and reflective silence.  
  
Aragorn blew a ring of blue smoke, and it drifted into Legolas' face. The elf started coughing harshly. When at last he was able to take a breath, he turned to face Aragorn critically.  
  
"Are you trying to choke me?"  
  
Despite the grievous tale of the past moments, the small room erupted in laughter. Yet Aragorn maintained his grave expression. "Oh, no, my dear friend. I would never do that to you." And he blew another smoke ring directly into Legolas' face. The sides of his lips curled upwards slyly as his friend hacked away in front of him. He might as well smile now; he saw the death threat in Legolas' eyes.  
  
But Legolas couldn't stop coughing for a while, and managed to be contented with a powerful smack on the back of Aragorn's head, making his friend sway back and forth for quite some time. After a single groan, Aragorn merely continued to laugh along with the rest, and an exasperated Legolas only hit him harder.  
  
Aragorn moaned with a smile on his rugged features. "I shall need an ale after this," he laughed.  
  
"Look!" cried Pippin. "Strider the Ranger has come back!"  
  
"He has never been away," Aragorn replied. "I am Strider and Dunadan too, and I belong both to Gondor and the North."  
  
{Just like you belong both to Saruman and I.}  
  
{Your words are foolish tricks, and nothing more. Be gone!}  
  
"I wonder what Gandalf is doing," Merry thought aloud. "The afternoon is getting on. Let us go and look round!"  
  
So the Fellowship passed through the door to the small chamber, and stood upon a pile of great stones, gazing at the black tower of Orthanc. Legolas' elven eyes reached farther than the others.  
  
"There is Gandalf, and Theoden and his men!" he pointed to what appeared to the others as a dark blur somewhat close to the tower. "Let us go and meet them!" The group followed what was left of the road from the gates of Orthanc, slowly, and careful of the many cracked and loose stone slabs.  
  
The riders spotted the companions approaching, and halted to wait for them, while Gandalf rode forward. Legolas felt rather than saw the menace of Orthanc getting nearer. The walls were jagged and sharp, just as they were on the inside; just like the ones that had once cut into his back as he had hidden in the shadows, and wept.  
  
{Do you remember, little prince?}  
  
{Aye.}  
  
{Are you ready to weep again?}  
  
"I must pay Saruman a farewell visit." Gandalf's words jolted Legolas back to reality. "Dangerous, and probably useless; but it must be done. Those of you who wish may come with me-but beware! And do not jest! This is not the time for it." With some warnings of Saruman's trickery, Gandalf rode back to the king at the foot of Orthanc. The others jogged after him, briefly reviving some memories of the traveling days before Lothlorien, when the Fellowship had once been whole. But as Legolas passed into Orthanc's long, dark shadow, a shadow too fell on his heart. Other memories panged faintly in his heart, and a glowing ember of rage brightened.  
  
Gandalf dismounted and spoke to Theoden. The King, and his nephew, Eomer, would climb the stairs with Gandalf to see Saruman. Aragorn was also to come, and Gimli, being who he was, insisted that he go along. Then all that knew of his tale turned to silently question Legolas.  
  
{You are up there, whoever you are. I know you are. I will find you.}  
  
"I shall accompany you. I alone here represent my kindred, and there is a score to settle with Saruman, if it is possible."  
  
Gandalf nodded gravely. Legolas did not desire to come any closer to Orthanc than he already had, but something waited for him at the top of those stairs; he felt it. With that, Gandalf climbed the steps, the others close behind. Merry and Pippin sat gloomily on the bottom step, feeling irrelevant and unsafe, with neither Treebeard nor another of their companions by their side.  
  
Gandalf struck the door to Orthanc with his staff, and called for Saruman loud and clear. Anxious silence descended upon all watching until finally an answer came.  
  
"Who is it?" came a hiss from the window above the door. "What do you wish?"  
  
Theoden growled as he recognized the voice. "Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Grima Wormtongue!" commanded Gandalf. "And do not waste our time!"  
  
No further conversation came, so Legolas assumed the person called Wormtongue had done as he was told.  
  
{What kind of pathetic person and servant does not even question a trespassing stranger?}  
  
Legolas blinked hard as a sharp pain shot through his head, and was gone. After clearing his mind, he considered the reaction, and grinned.  
  
{That was you, wasn't it.}  
  
Another pang rattled his head, but Legolas showed no response.  
  
{You are Wormtongue-and fittingly so!} Legolas could have laughed aloud, but decided against it.  
  
Suddenly Legolas heard a different voice-low and bewitching. Almost everyone around him seemed to become entranced by it. Except Legolas. He recognized the enchantment, and did not let his mind fall into the trap.  
  
"Well?" Saruman's voice drifted gently out to them. "Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace at all by day or night?"  
  
Even before Saruman stepped out of the shadows, Legolas felt the Istar's eyes on him. He saw the flame in them; and oh, how it burned him. Saruman stepped into the light, his dark eyes never leaving Legolas.  
  
Suddenly, Legolas felt the all-too-familiar sting of a whip across his back.  
  
Not a muscle in his body flinched.  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes at Saruman. He wouldn't let his tormentor hurt him again. Not now, in front of so many others. Not ever again. He wouldn't allow Saruman to look upon a pain-ridden elf ever again. This he promised himself. This he promised Saruman.  
  
Again and again, Legolas felt the magical sensation of the whip over almost every inch of his body, and again and again, he did not move. This was the art of illusion, the art of deception. And he had mastered it perfectly.  
  
Suddenly, Saruman turned from his conversations with Gandalf and the others. "And here is my little elf," he sneered, his calm and gentle air vanishing like a wisp of shrouded smoke. Legolas glared dangerously, as he felt the sting again, in addition to the sting of so many eyes on him. If he could just make it through this one encounter, he could be free. He knew it.  
  
"You escaped the dungeons, little elf. You escaped the shadows and the torches." Legolas could feel how they were all listening intently. Then the sting. It hurt more than it should have . . .  
  
"But you cannot escape the past. You cannot escape the light in my eyes, can you? No, a part of you will always be burning in these eyes. A part of you will always be chained to the stone of Isengard's dungeons."  
  
Such anger and such hatred ignited in Legolas' radiant blue eyes then, and he did nothing to hide it. That sight terrified Aragorn, for never had Legolas, in all their years of friendship, so openly shown fury or loathing. He watched with wide eyes as Saruman and Legolas continued their sort of battle.  
  
"Do you feel the sting of the whip again, little elf? What an excellent job you do of hiding it! What an excellent job!" Saruman leaned over the railing a little and narrowed his eyes into a cruelly delighted expression. "But can you stand through the weight of them all?"  
  
Suddenly, the weight of every whip lash that had befallen Legolas fell over the elf's slender back. Legolas fell forward and landed on his hands and knees, his breathing hard for just a moment.  
  
But his face remained frozen in a fire of burning anger.  
  
Aragorn started forward to his friend, but Gandalf put his arm out in front of him. The man turned in confusion and disbelief to the Istar. But Gandalf only winked one of his Gandalf-winks, and Aragorn had no choice but to trust him.  
  
Legolas started to rise.  
  
"Do you remember the fires that burned in those dungeons? Do you still see the bright orange glow?"  
  
Half standing, Legolas suddenly collapsed once more, with merely a subtle cry. Those who did not know of his past were confounded, but those who did had some sort of idea of what Saruman was doing. Yet none could know the true fire that licked away at his one leg, and the other places where the skin was still scarred. They couldn't begin to guess the agony that shot through Legolas like his own arrows.  
  
{Ai Elbereth, help me now . . .}  
  
{Look up, elfling.}  
  
{What do you want, Grima Wormtongue?}  
  
{LOOK UP!}  
  
Sharp pangs rattled his already severely shaken mind. Legolas looked up, to see the sheen of light off greasy black hair, dark evil eyes, and. . .a long dagger . . .  
  
{What are you doing?}  
  
The burning intensified, as Saruman continued to speak, though Legolas was not listening.  
  
{Do you want me to send him down to you?}  
  
{What?}  
  
A stifled sound escaped Legolas' lips. Saruman was growing ignorant in his sport. Legolas felt the pounding of metal-gilded orcish fists on him, the crash of iron on his bones, the lick of the whip, the burn of the fire, all at once. He wanted to squeeze tight his eyes and curl up. He felt suddenly a gaping hole in his heart. He felt all the brightness suddenly drain from his spirit. To those watching, it seemed as if Legolas had once glowed, and now had faded. Despair came again to hollow out his soul, and try to snatch away his life. Visible darkness came about him, like a sphere of hope-forsaken shadow. Everything seemed gone . . .everything that was good and worth laughing about seemed gone, and not likely to ever return. Tears wanted to flow, weakness wanted to flourish.  
  
"Little prince, did you ever learn what became of your father?"  
  
Legolas' head snapped up, his eyes boring into Saruman.  
  
"You did. Oh, I would have loved to watch you weep at that moment! But now, let us see. . .perhaps I shall have that opportunity after all."  
  
Suddenly, a blur hurtled down towards the group of people on the stairs, and they moved out to avoid it.  
  
Thranduil's corpse hit the stone hard.  
  
Legolas' eyes widened. He could only stare at his father's rotting body. He could only stare into those lifeless eyes so helplessly. Suddenly he knew what Wormtongue meant by "sending him to me".  
  
{Send him to me!}  
  
{Are you sure?}  
  
Legolas felt the emptiness growing rapidly.  
  
{SEND HIM TO ME!}  
  
There was a blur of movement from above, and all eyes turned from the elf prince to the balcony, to see Wormtongue, his dagger blade sliding across Saruman's throat. Crimson dribbled down the wizard's neck, and the snake shoved him from Orthanc, and he landed just beside Thranduil.  
  
Legolas banished the lingering pain, and leaped up, drawing his twin elven knives, his hands nearly invisible in their flurry. He struck down at Saruman's body. Now the tears ran down his fair cheeks, with hatred such as he had never felt before. Again and again, he sliced the wizard's dead form, not caring for the peering eyes. How long he slashed at the flesh he didn't know. At last, he began to slow, and then he stopped. He turned his tear-ridden face slowly to the horror stricken faces of his friends. His front side was entirely soaked in Saruman's blood, like a figure from a child's nightmare. He looked at the halflings, and he could see the fear in their eyes. In fact, he could look to Gandalf and to Aragorn, and even to Gimli, and see fear.  
  
{Oh, excellent show, little prince.}  
  
Legolas' hands whipped back, drawing his bow and an arrow. Hardly taking a second to aim, he shot it straight up. It soared past Wormtongue, rising, higher and higher.  
  
Wormtongue laughed. "In all your fury, Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, you've lost your legendary accuracy. Rage is always a weapon; whether against ones self or ones enemy, that is your choi-"  
  
But he never got to finish, as Legolas' arrow came streaking back down, and impaling Wormtongue's skull.  
  
"And so I've chosen, snake," he whispered.  
  
All was silent, as every person who had a seeing pair of eyes watched the bloody elf as he staggered to the wall of Isengard, blew out a sigh, and leaned against the jagged stone, not daring to look his friends in the eye.  
  
"Come!" came Gandalf's voice at last. "Let us leave this place!" And so they all turned and descended the stairs of Isengard's dark tower. Gimli clunked along, Theoden stayed beside Gandalf, and Aragorn walked loyally beside Legolas, suddenly with more respect than he had ever felt for the elf. As they reached the bottom, Legolas stopped suddenly.  
  
"Just a moment." His voice was shy, and Aragorn nodded, also halting. Legolas turned and darted back up the stairs. He scooped up Thranduil's body, and returned. A gruesome sight, the corpse was, but to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf, it made no difference. And so the Fellowship and the Riders of Rohan rode from the side of Orthanc, until they were far away- Gandalf's recommendation-and darkness began to descend over the world.  
  
* * *  
  
Snoring and heavy breathing drifted through the night, as the visitors to Isengard slept. All . . .except a couple.  
  
Aragorn moved as silent as was possible for a man over the resting Riders of Rohan. He wondered what they thought of Legolas now. As he did, with more respect than before, or with fear, or maybe-the thought would have killed Legolas-disdain?  
  
He stopped suddenly. Legolas was lying on the ground, eyes open, staring at the stars. He could have been asleep or awake.  
  
Aragorn knew he was awake.  
  
The man came over and lay down beside Legolas, also staring at the stars. They lay there in silence for a little, merely enjoying the clear night and hopeful glitter of light in the sky.  
  
"Ai Elbereth, I'm going to miss him."  
  
Aragorn turned his head to the side. They were lying beside the place where they had buried Thranduil. Gandalf and Aragorn had helped Legolas gather some flowers and leaves to decorate the grave, and even Gimli had pitched in. Legolas had spent most of the day there, in silent reflection.  
  
"He was a great elf, Legolas. His spirit will find welcome in the Halls of Mandos."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I know." He shifted a little. "I wonder if my purpose in this world has yet been fulfilled."  
  
Aragorn looked at his friend questioningly. "What do you mean?"  
  
Legolas sighed. "My father's purpose was great, and long stretched, over many years as King of Mirkwood. After Moria, Mandos told me that my purpose in life has yet to be filled. I wonder if this was it . . ."  
  
"I think that it was part of it. You've done so much in your past. You saved Haldir's life at Helms Deep; you were a mentor to young Quessetal. You likely have much ahead of you, my friend, which will benefit you and the lives of others. I think Mandos will look down upon you and smile."  
  
Leoglas nodded, and shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a single silver tear glittered on his face. "Thank you, Aragorn." Aragorn looked at Legolas. "Thank you for supporting me. When I learned of my father's death, I thought I would die. I felt that for sure, grief would consume me and swallow me whole.  
  
"But I came to realize that there is too much in this world to fight for to leave it now. You, Haldir, Tirdin and Nifien. . .even Gimli, let us say." Aragorn chuckled and Legolas grinned. "This war is far from over, and I will not leave it now."  
  
Aragorn smiled. "Nor shall I, if I can help it. So, I'll see you when it's over, mellon nin."  
  
"Aye. Namarie till then."  
  
And so the two fell asleep, side-by-side, under the light of the stars, and the watchful eyes of a certain elven lord.  
  
THE END  
  
* * *  
  
Sigh. Alrighty doods. Now comes the bad news. It's over. Caput. Done with. I hadn't originally planned to end it here. I actually had a different ending, far in the future, and several more plot points planned. But I've decided to end it here so I can do more original writing. I'm sorry for the wait, but it was a long chapter, and, well, the good news is. . .no more long waits!  
  
Again, guys, I'm really sorry, but I really need to do more original writing that might actually take me places. I have several ideas that need work, so I think my term at fanfiction is over. At least for now.  
  
Katinka Inga Bogananana: Yes.that was the stalker Aragorn chapter. This one was better in terms of friendshipness.  
  
"none as of yet": Thanks! That's what I've been working at with the characters, to make them believable. I sometimes change their personalities by the page, so it's good that you think they're believable! Thanks!  
  
Lady of the Forest1: Hehe, Happy Very-Late Birthday! Good luck with the poster stealing, heh.  
  
Menthol: I WAS going to write all the way into ROTK, but my recent decisions have stopped me from doing so. I'll try to read your story, but I've become very involved in a different website, and I've kind of stopped visiting fanfiction. *ducks from various thrown objects * Yes, yes, I am a traitor. *runs off *  
  
Coolio02: Thanks for reviewing! ^.^  
  
Zelda Saturn Mistress: Hehe. Oh, how much pleasure I'd take in killing Arwen. . .SHE STOLE GLORFINDEL'S PART! AND HIS HORSE! MAY SHE BURN IN HELL! ..Right. Sorry. Anyways, yeah. ^.^  
  
Sparrow Greenleaf: Aaaactually, I guess I can say this as this fic is going to further. . .I had two original plans for the ending. One was that all is well and Legolas goes home to Tirdin and Nifien's wedding. The OTHER was that Legolas dies and the war against Sauron is lost. Kind of contradictory ideas, eh? But all is good now. ^.^  
  
Irish QT: Hehe, Legolas angst plenty. But no more, sadly.  
  
Rubber Armed Waldorf: *shoelace dance * Boomuffin hi! You can slap me Monday for ending this. Hehe.  
  
GGJ: Hehe, the absence of Chibi in that last review was severely amusing. Especially with the @.@ness. Hehehehehehehe. But yes. It is over. And the next time we see each other we'll beat each other up. ^.^  
  
Merrylyn: Hehe. In the book, actually, Legolas gets 41 and Gimli wins with 42. I decided "screw this, the hot elf rules all." I must say, I am going to miss your reviews. Give a psychopath a good laugh now and again. ^.^ Thanks for being of humouristicness! Hehe.  
  
Chanra: I CAN SPELL YOUR NAME! HAAAAAAAAALELUJAH! No, you're not a wuss. I almost bawl every time I watch TTT. Bloody Peter Jackson. . .let's go kill him with staplers. But only after the extended ROTK comes out and his work is done. ^.^  
  
THAT IS ALL FOLKS! I hope you enjoyed the show, and please be kind and review on your way out. I am very sorry to end it here, truly, I am. But things must be done and this is not the way to do them.  
  
So Namarie to all, and to all Namarie!!!!  
  
~Searcher of Souls~ 


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